Apis

With a comb I groom bright petals; The abuse of a hairy flog Luxate the pollen in view. Cover the inches of my members As a working bee. Dredge gold from deep pockets Of honeysuckle sweetness…. So rich. Until the banks sparkle no more. Dip in, dip out, Fly away. I take a life for cycle, Never cursing the buzz of time. I am in purpose, Nature guide this crime, and Carry on kalon. Man will chatter, Some will protest, but None will look away. [Note: Why do bad things happen to good people? Why does life require suffering? This was the prompt used for this poem.]