Amber

Hover the imagined center, our tongues grew long to please it, licking the walls, a chamber built of scent, a moment followed by a lesser moment & a hunger to return. It couldn't last. Resin flowed glacially from wounds in the bark pinned us in our entering as the orchids opened wider. First, liquid, so we swam until we couldn't. Then it felt like sleep, the taste of nectar still inside us. Sometimes a flower became submerged with us. A million years went by. A hundred. Swarm of hoverflies, cockroach, assassin bug, all trapped, suspended in that moment of fullness, a Pompeii, the mother covering her child's head forever.