The conscripted bees dutifully praise the flowers, letting floral lovers touch through bee as medium. Fluffy bumblebees. Wise honeybees. They all gather around a Georgia O’Keefe painting salivating. I myself am a salacious painting of yellow, and I shake my head no. You can tell bees that flower has no nectar, but as long as the sweating stamen sticks out, they will pant for it. When the painting has been stung by disappointed bees, sunshine flows through the pin pricks like needles of light. The bees return to their vocation, licking the honeycomb anxious children leave behind.
Miniature Moon 