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.