When Wasps Return
First, the argument --
"They're not bees,
bees produce more sense.
These are hoods of bright rage."
Well, in rejoinder, that was
last July.
Then: "They're coming back,
I saw them, dancing along the
driver's side window."
Well they even fell from the envelope,
swept upright, and went about
their cloud of hurt, war, weapon,
a purpose in their gleam.
So was written in the letter,
a letter of loneliness,
but warning.
So many vows break
in this season.
So many words
dart in and out of wounds.
Meg
Smith
Meg
Smith is a poet, journalist, dancer and events producer living in Lowell, Mass.
Her poetry has appeared or has been accepted to The Cafe Review, Star*Line,
Illumen, Pudding, Dreams & Nightmares, and more.
Tags:
Poetry