I’ve only ever
Felt the sting of the needle
Leaving deep blooms
Indigoes and violets
Pasted on my skin.
Felt the anaesthesia
Seep into my blood
And sip at it
Leisurely
As though it had come
For a cup of tea
And a conversation.
‘Won’t you come and dance?’
It asks as it coils itself around
Cells
Stacked upon cells.
And they sit there
In a stagnant pool of blood
That begins to feel
A bit like nectar
Warm and runny
Like the drops that fall from
The heavens.
‘Come!’
It sings against my veins
‘Come and have a drink,
With me
And watch the tea turn from black
To brown.’
Until it looks like molten gold
And runs down the lines of my body
Painting it from the inside out.
‘Come and listen.’
It says thrumming it’s fingers
Against my heart,
Until I hear the sound of
The beating drums against my ears
Like wings on bees
Who kiss the flowers
Sensually.
‘Won’t you come?’
It whispers desperately
Swallowing the last mouthfuls
Of it’s golden tea,
As the numbness begins to alight
With slow snaps,
Of fresh and crackly honeycomb
To dip into my blood
Like the sting of the needle
Dipped into
A suffusion of honey.