We try hard not to fall into error – like trying to avoid the beehive,
though it’s where the honey is kept.
Autocorrect wants to make beehive Bernice,
wants to turn Neruda into Jerusalem.
My own eyes, when they spot The Redress of Poetry on my shelf,
see The Red Dress of Poetry.
When I love you less than perfectly, it is the same.
When I am the sand in your soap, it is the same.
Peel back the edge for the honey.