If I had a stinger like a bee,

I'd use it.

I'd push it deep into Him and watch him retch.

I'd laugh so hard I coughed and cried, and I'd feel my eyes

sickle once I got hilt deep.

Then I'd pull out, slow and hard,

and feel us both rush out.

I'd feel my body pour, first bowels then bladder then uterus

(sorry about the blood and shit)

and then floodplains and ire.

Often I'd twitch, mainly when the veins crisscrossing my arms

would snap,

but mostly I'd grin and gurgle.

Look how I cave, Him!

Look how I totter and shatter in your mighty light!

Though your eyes have dimmed, please, please wrap them

around my bracken waist!

It would only be halfway through the death that I would realize

my barbed stinger was still embedded deep in Him, and his rush was nothing but breath

while I splattered.

Summer Cramer