for Honey Granny

Don't fool me
with your honey,
your sticky resin,
your fallen pollen.
I see-through your

My grandmother's
a beekeeper. She has
traveled around the world
three times with her
honey stomach, fanning
the hive.

She taught me honey
hunting. I can live
for days in the wilderness.
My color's clear, my aroma,
too, full of clover.

She would only harvest
a good kind of sweet.