The Curse
I bless you love,
like the bee is blessed in honey,
though, in the hive, the beekeeper
has seen the bees drowning in honey.

Is this a blessing,
a dying from cloy and sugar,
surely, slowly?

Or, is it this, this, as you will see,
the sweetener is this,
that over blessed as you may be
perhaps others may save you,

consuming the amber that traps you,
unsticking the sticky,
unpinning your wings?

In this way, we pray,
we are saved from too much blessing,
and in this way, maybe,
honey blooded, we are blessed.



Sarah Davies is in exile from the North, (and the Sea), in Bedford. She has written poetry since she was a child, except when life gets in the way.  She has been published in a range of magazines and is working on a pamphlet.