The Part of the Bee's Body Embedded in the Flesh

The bee-boy, merops apiater, on sultry thundery days
filled his bosom between his coarse shirt and his skin
with bees – his every meal wild honey.
He had no apprehension of their stings or didn't mind
and gave himself – his palate, the soft tissues of his throat –
what Rubens gave to the sun's illumination
stealing like fingers across a woman's thigh
and Van Gogh's brushwork heightened.
Whatever it means, why not say it hurts –
the mind's raw, gold coiling whirled against
air currents, want, and beauty? I will say beauty.