Artwork © Eric N. Peterson

 

He Calls Me Honey

Can passion match my fear, the cynical “ugh”,
the school of swoons?

Me of the barnyard breath, me of glass
indulgences in training wheels of maturity
deliciously skidding, earth meeting air,
where one becomes the other?

A turn, he’s given me, & inward
the turning goes while somehow showing out.

Whose mirror? Whose horizon eyes & timely oceans,
a gazing landscape of spirits?

How to manage the beads of them, the intricacy
over my usual armor –
here – naked lace from the breast plate,
there, a frill spilling, & me some spool
foolishly awhirl, faithful to disrobement,
to being the man, woman, child,
& honey without venom should a spoon
be raised & his mouth be gold.
 
 

Stephen Mead is a retired Civil Servant, having worked two decades for three state agencies. Before that his more personally fulfilling career was fifteen years in healthcare. Throughout all these day jobs he was able to find time for writing poetry/essays, and creating art. Occasionally he even got paid for this work. Currently he is resident artist/curator for The Chroma Museum, artistic renderings of LGBTQI historical figures, organizations and allies predominantly before Stonewall.

Eric N. Peterson is from Atlanta, Ga. He’s been drawing cartoons all his life. He leans towards the absurd, imaginative, and the surreal, as that’s where all the flavor is.