Roddy Williams – The Atheist Poet

The Symphony of Bees (2010)

In shirtsleeves abuzz with torchbeams and joy
he was there in my dream unexpected
but welcome. He comes to me sometimes with
answers to questions that hibernated,
pressed crisp like flowers between the years’ pages,
delivers them as a metamorphor
of smoke into my blessed sleep. Then he goes,
out like a light, but a trace lingers on
as the faintest musk. Now I am awake
he drains from me, words, droning rivulets
running into each other, transforming
to the single sound of him, an essence
humming through my head like a choir of bees
in the final bars of a lost duet.


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