November 6

Killer Bees…

 

…will be here soon.  I’ve built

a shelter, have protective clothing.

I’m not allergic, but I’ve heard

one sting’s enough

to bring a swarm upon you,

a pulsing beige carpet, stinging.

 

The angry territorial mind, engineered

to produce better honey for toast and tea

(adding better sweetness, you’d agree,

is worth the risk of calm)

— although, mesh-masked,

I cannot eat, and gloves

that fatten my fingers

cannot grip a knife and fork.

 

My shielding frightens children,

cuts me off from conversation.

But friendships are a luxury

when my refuge has, so sorry,

just space enough

for one.