Queen Bee

Queen Bee

 

When yellow rain showers

germinate goldenrod

flowers’ sweet nectar hour

I become queen.

Pollen baskets yield my fame,

until drones die to mate

then mate to die—

HIV of those who

fly beneath my wing.

I close my eyes,

respect their darkness,

and lick their short-haired shells.

Then realize as the skyline’s

kissed by dawn…

 

this moment is mine.

 

Shawn R. Jones

Reprinted from Womb Rain

(Finishing Line Press, 2008)