Preservation

The sun hits the honey and turns it to gold,

making the kitchen feel slow, like a lung.

I think of the stories that never get told,

and the taste of the sugar that sits on the tongue.

A gnat is caught fast in a drop of the sap

I found on my boot after walking the park.

It’s stuck in a beautiful, permanent trap,

a speck of a life held away from the dark.

I have a necklace I don't wear at all,

with a bead that is warm and heavy and thick.

It’s funny how time can just come to a crawl

and turn a small struggle into a trick.