A Sacrament


Become that high priest, 
the bee. Drone your way 
from one fragrant
temple to another, nosing
into each altar. Drink 
what's divine—
and while you're there,
let some of the sacred
cling to your limbs.
Wherever you go 
leave a small trail 
of its golden crumbs.

In your wake 
the world unfolds 
its rapture, the fruit
of its blooming.
Rooms in your house
fill with that sweetness
your body both
makes and eats.


           —Paulann Petersen

The Grove Review, 2005
A Bride of Narrow Escape, Cloudbank Books, 2005

© Paulann Petersen, all rights reserved. You may use poems from this website for non-commercial purposes only. Poems must be used in their entirety, including any citations or acknowledgements listed at the bottom of the page. For more information, contact .

Home

Books

Poems

Interviews & Articles