Alprazolam

My chest, a jar
of honey knifed
open—I know sweet
is only sweet
if you sacrifice
your ugliest parts.
I’d forfeit my name
for silence. Suture
my ears to stop
the angry hum
of wings inside me.
Hand me a blade, bees-
wax & I’ll show you
what I’m made of.
Did you know anyone
can be a graveyard
if you dig deep enough?
Did you know at the edge
of every scalpel
there is a prayer? Imagine
this simple vivisection:
I make an incision
from chin to collar
bone. I drop
a small white pearl
down my throat
& like a song
a hive of writhing bees
spills out.

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Brandon Melendez is a Mexican-American poet from California and the author of home/land (Write Bloody 2019). He is a National Poetry Slam finalist and two-time Berkeley Grand Slam Champion. A recipient of the the 2018 Djanikian Scholarship from the Adroit Journal, his poems are in or forthcoming in Black Warrior Review, Ninth Letter, Muzzle Magazine, the minnesota review, Sixth Finch, and elsewhere. He currently lives in Boston and is an MFA candidate at Emerson College.