bees

you begin every conversation about
colony collapse  disorder with
a lecture. it's something we've hidden
for years among science and industry
but when you can't get almonds for
the traditional green bean casserole
who will you talk to then about the one third
needed about the 1/3 dying about the one
third of the world's population that will
follow suit when the bees go into hiding.



















(*())*



one hundred days ago we swam warm currents
over a scented sea. our legs were strong, our wings
a blur of motion keeping us cool, together, one mind.
gather the nectar, store the pollen, serve the queen.
we had no need for police, this business of errant
eggs bustled out of the hive, pheromone id's, things
not tolerated before rumours of age, always unkind,
took a bitter turn in her dark  mind. i've seen her

panting and exhausted after giving birth
two thousand times,plucking gametes
picked for color and transparancy sometimes
for opacity. she liked surprises. it was sad
when they killed her, so many police at the scene
swarming over eggs no one cared to discard
or shield. we left after that, most of us. some say
it was the itch or the way our lungs filled with water
panting in the foraging fields under sun
spots that drown us in  a blinding faith in light. .








*(

the queen's tale

my first  clear  taste of power
in the womb. a  waxy portal opened
daily   warm bath fresh from the harvest
poured over my head. inhale and exhale

in the waxy womb, a portal opened
poured power into my gulping mouth
poured it over my head, inhale, exhale
till i screamed each time they sealed the wax

power poured into my gulping mouth
my womb cried out in fullness
i screamed at last when they unsealed the wax
  they let me out into the sun. i was stunned.

my womb cried out in fullness.
sniff the drones strong flower
while i wait for wings to dry
then i fly among them, coy for while
sniffing, choosing, then tapped
i abandon to their styles. this one fed
on honey dew from nighshade, that one from
a patch of peonies. this one had an orchid
for a bottle, that one had roses for a daddy.
i felt the press of these damn eggs for the first
time and flew back to the hive. when the first
one passed, i wish i'd died, but it got easier
and now i' wait for a pantoum to break in here
and rescue me or a barb in my abdomen anything
besides a quick starvation. it's just so, ignoble.