by Jessica Heron
What strange wind has brought these bees to beat wings on my flower bed
Heads strain for hot sun to warm each possible second
The flower’s unraveled full bodied perfume beckons a mass of stinging insects
Vigorous and gentle they pick through, speck by speck, brimming with instinct
They hardly harm a petal
The flower dips and rises in communion
With their legs and their legs like arms, the full weight of them
They are sniffing like miniature winged pleasure hounds
Every part of their buzzing bodies aiming to collect nectar that sticks to them
Full, they fly to the oozing honeycomb hive until the flower’s next unfurling
Jessica Heron is an ability-queer pizza bagel poet and applied linguist from Staten Island living at the Jersey Shore. Her work has appeared in Hot Pink, BRUISER, Let’s Stab Caesar!, Horror Sleaze Trash, Tiny Spoon, and other publications. Visit her at jessicaheronpoetry.com if the mood strikes you.
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