A block of beeswax, dull as butter, beginning its slow sweat in the double-boiler. A gentle heat to 143° Fahrenheit; it mustn’t be left alone, for fear of flashpoint. Better to coax into liquid, better the watched pot. Lavender and calendula oils, infused weeks ago in the sun, swirl in a molten dance, tenderly fusing with the prize of the honeycomb, until all is aqueous gold; the transmutation of elements into emollience. This is the point where you sob. This is how grief metamorphoses. This is the alchemy of the kitchen, which she never lived long enough to learn.
Lauren Tivey lives on the edge of a moss-laden Florida swamp, where she entertains spirits over moonlit tea ceremonies, and dotes on her familiar, a little black cat named Poppet. She is the author of four chapbooks, most recently Moroccan Holiday, which won The Poetry Box Chapbook Prize 2019. Her work has appeared in such places as Connotation Press, Split Lip Magazine, and Jersey Devil Press, among dozens of others. She teaches English and Creative Writing at Flagler College.