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Bee Hospice

Here’s a poem I wrote today… (I don’t remember the last time I wrote a poem).  

Bee Hospice

Oh look, he says
I stop and turn around
He sets the grocery bags down

Is it dead? I ask, squatting
I poke it gently, with my thumbnail
It is not brittle
Maybe it is still alive
Not even an antenna moves

I pick a soft blackberry leaf off a vine growing out of the pavement
I think a moment, and pick another one
I study the bee, determining a good angle of approach
I carefully reposition
My underwear might be showing under my skirt

Using the small leaf, I scoop the bee onto the big leaf
She is sandwiched now, on her back
I step over to the grass
I invert the bee sandwich
I leave her hidden, on tired feet, in this tiny shelter

I stand up and he grabs our grocery bags
My face crumples as we walk
I begin to cry
I am glad for my sunglasses
Then I sob

 

dead bee on paper bag

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