Names to Remember the Future

I call you honeybee not because you’re sweet, but because you’re a great conversationalist, always ready with a question or folding in the stranger. 

You can work a room like an orchard or a garden, indiscriminate among the flowers, your face where you want it, in a bosom of blooms. 

I call you honeybee more for the sake of the bee whose name I’ve hitched to your hale existence. 

But let’s face it, even these bees will eventually die off, and then I will have to call you what? My rare bunny? I will run around the house trying to salt your tail. 

Rare bunnies are known to prefer first-growth forests, so I will engage now and then in a good, controlled burn—all for the sake of perfecting our relationship and saving animal kind. 

On days of mass extinction I’ll call you every name in the book as I rip out the pages. Various lions, tigers and bears until there are no more animals to be afraid of—except the human one, too-often foundering in its loneliness, jealous of its scraps. 

On that day I guess I’ll just have to call you baby.