Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Wanda O'Connor Full milk moon One can apply the sublime art of consequence to keeping a nest of bees captive                                                 while they love against the cool crumb of honeycomb. The modest appetite of the apiary sustains a long brumal season; social and solitary they balance,                                                 honey clear as broth. One must avoid the hive, Apollo's hyperborean cousins; let to rest well in their waffled cloth. Later, stored honey is eaten over a platter of winter cakes                                                 while the colony of bees balance in their homes, fixed and taciturn, adjusting the current of frost and immaculate breath. Next Poem
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