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The landscape of your heartbeats, more than 1,000 beats per minute

I uncurl at the sight of you.

Poetry | Poetry Tuesday, poetry
July 29, 2025

I am a hummingbird tongue, tucked to the back
of my own skull.
I shouldn’t fly, but I do.

All wings moving too fast, yet slow, to a bumblebee
pacing the flowers,
holding air from gravity,
holding court.

I uncurl at the sight of you.
Pollen clings to my legs
and your whispers sip my ears.

Always, always waiting on sweetness
that does not come.