Adytum

The salt in your eyes has me floating, 
pull me down into the puddles of mine where you step! 

Honey is pouring down the strings
where hammers beat, they dance like spring.
Some one is singing, more like breathing,
catching pneumonia as she’s freezing. 
The hammers’ felt tips start to hum
warm fingers grace, turning her numb.
Pounding, prancing, tapping on.

The wind wonders- will I break ivory?
Then, I encourage the bee stings.