Because the bee 
In my bonnet 
Is the B in my bed, 
Who I can’t and I 
Won’t stop bumping; 
We do the humpty 
Hump. My big nose 
Nestled in her sassafras. 
At attention, we round 
Each other out. At ease,  
Her peach is a galaxy. 
Now and later is a square 
I quietly hold on my tongue, 
My mouth an empty gesture.  
Spaced out between her legs,  
I am an astronaut. 
The gravity of my offense 
Adds up to a rational number. 
When the heavens are free 
From light, I sit desire on my lap. 
She is stardust; And I,  
As it were, am impossible.   
When she asks for space 
She is the future. When she 
Asks for a room, it is the end.  
I place before her chutes, 
Ladders, and whatever else 
Might fall from the sky.
Copyright © 2021 by Alison C. Rollins. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 18, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.