Saturday, January 31, 2015

Honeysuckle, by Hayden Saunier

Honeysuckle, by Hayden Saunier

Honeysuckle

 

Trumpet flourishes of scent called us to wild hedges

by abandoned houses, to creamy slender-throated mouths

 

the tallest of us reaching high or deep inside on tip-toe

drawing down great arcs of sweetness to our hands —

 

then we’d divide the sprays between us, settle on a broken step

to slowly strip the boughs of blossom, press our fingernails

 

to petal-flesh above the tiny sepal, score it just enough

to see the inner pistil stem that science class so distant then

 

would teach us is a style, the knob atop the style a stigma

and we’d pull the pale green pistil down the slender neck

 

draw nectar to the broken end until a gleaming bead of liquid

trembled at the break and we touched blossom, nectar, knob and stem

 

to tongue-tip like first taste of sex and every time

the care we took made it first time again — we scored and slid

 

and sipped the sugar of a thousand trumpets until dusk

or someone’s mother called or rang a bell to bring us home.

 

— Hayden Saunier

 

Hayden Saunier is a writer and actress living in Doylestown.

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