The Part of the Bee's Body Embedded in the Flesh The bee-boy, merops apiaster, on sultry thundery days filled his bosom between his coarse shirt and his skin with bees--his every meal wild honey. He had no apprehension of their stings or didn't mind and gave himself--his palate, the soft tissues of his throat-- what Rubens gave to the sun's illumination stealing his fingers across a woman's thigh and Van Gogh's brushwork heightened. Whatever it means, why not say it hurts-- the mind's raw, gold coiling whirled against air currents, want, beauty? I will say beauty.