Abuzz: Buzzing and Buzzed

Aside from that one time,

When, after swatting and flailing in its midst—

                It, notaware of

Or able to process

My misdirecteddanger-fear,

                Of an angel simply hovering inmy midst,

                It,becoming agitated, not aggressed:

                                Avictim in every sense,

                Stungme and flew away; zip-zaggedly,

When I chased it, cryingout in affectated,

Regally poseuseterror,

                A dramatic cis-victim,

At a creature who’svillainy lay in nothing more

                Than spreadingpollen on its wings and feet as

                                It collected the nectar from theflowers

                                                Planted specifically by my

Grandmother to attract it—and them—

That happened tohave a stinger,

                                Anda job to do

                                Anda queen to dote upon

                                Andhoney to make

                                And,incidentally, more flowers to                                                                         procreate.

I have not met a bee in whose glory I didn’t abide.

Now, in the fashion of my grandmother,

                I plantflowers specifically for bees.

Now, in the fashion of my aunt,

My Gram’snamesake,

                                I dip my finger in jars of local—

Wherever local is— honey:

                                                   “These are naturalanti-allergenics,

                                                  The cure forseasonal sneezes”: sweet                                                                 and Laudanum-al.

                                                                Auntstell no tales.

“It’s going to die, you know.

After a bee bites you,”—the cousin-ly

wisdom of a sixthgrade elder

Shared with a firster,

                Devoid,as it is, of anatomical subtleties,

                                Notknowing head from thorax—

                                “Abee dies.”

                                                “Andalso don’t touch a butterfly’s                                                                     wings,”

                                                                For good measure,

                                                                Tangentially,pre-pubescently                                                                             non-sequitur.

I bawl in the memory of this occasion:

                In thecallousness of fearmongered misperceptions.

I weep at my part in the ignorant disruption of soul’scircles:

                Lifegoing on despite me.

I dwell—take refuge—in the innocence of it all:

                For monarchsand the world-work-interrupted.

I bask in subsequential lightening:

                Earnestlypiecing penitence with patience.

But for “the talk”, which would be unuttered,

                                Awkwardand fumbling,

For several more years,

                When,alas, the bumble-fuzz had begun to coat my own

                Below-the-neckand calves

                                And under-pits

                                Andnethers: my own stinger:

Peachily,

The connections between ins and outs,

                                Toppedand stung-ered,

                                Heads,even, and thoraces—

                                                Honeyand pollen—

Were combed by mystery and unrequited adult-ly innuendo—

                Powderedand dusted  by mythology,

                                Collectedon sticky feet and abdomens and                                                                         wings:                            

                Encrustedby experimentation—

Until  we were all busywith busy-ness:

                Procreantand sustaining.

Now, in the fashion of my grandfather

                I fertilizewhen nobody’s looking,

                                                Tilling,making soil from dirt,

                                “lookhow your flowers grow,

                                                Mylove.”

Now in the fashion of my uncle,

                My cousin’sfather,

                                I share the care for the hive.

                                Menprotect, essentially:

Instinctively.

                We tend and reap tales.

And in this chastened garden,

                Where apianhas been sub-specie’d

                                Amongstwasps and hornets and

                                yellowjackets and honey—

                                                                killer—

                                                                        Frighteningin their own

Protectively poisonouspenetrations,

                                                Intheir nuanced, six-sided,

                                                                Prismaticand harvestable,

                                                                Honey-combedand fraternal,

                                                                Drone-dorms,

We, sweeten, sow and harvest.

Now in the fashion of my sister—

                One oftwo princesses yet remains,

                                Half of a sugar-waxed and mirroredpair

                                Persistingon the throne made whole

                                                Inhopeful anguish.

Now in the fashion of a mother,

                The beewho, through circumstance,

                                Centersthe hive,

                                                Forbetter or worse,

                                Fromthe sweetest wax’d throne:

                                                Eve’striumphant tales.                                          

And the bees, now, are more scarce,

                Coloniescollapsing,

                Climatechanging,

                Pesticiding—

                                Ecosystemsre-calibrating.

And the bees, now, are more vital

                Environmentally

                Unrequited,

                Missed,save poesies:

                                Andeco-sentimentalism.

A breathless hum, unavoidable—the wing’d purrs—

                From Aristaeanto Protnian to American:

                                Theprotean force of ancient burmite:

                                Plasticand moulded:

                                         Syncopatedand thunderous in numbers:

                                         Swollenstamens bursting forth sun-chasing                                                                         new life:

                                                                Inchoral madrigal,

                                                                Witha villainy un-earned,

                                                                                Misperceivedin                                                                                             any sense—

                                                Starredand striped and buzz-fuzzed,

                                                                Regaland coated by the                                                                                                 forces of                                                                                          nature:                  

                                                                                Bythe strength of                                                                                   God’s plan:

                                Ahistamine seeked,

                                Anaffectation un-bloomed,

                                Ablossom flittered by powdered wings,

                                Amyth debunked by fact,

                                                Enrichedby innocence:

                                                             Andbutterflies (by the way):

                                                             Afalse-threat                                                                                               denuded,                                                                                          Wisdomenriched by                                                                                     a Constitutional                                                                                    mandate 

                                                                        Fromabove,

A natural law

From within, amongst, and housed

by urns, wrought and fulfilled

by roses, hydrangeas, daisies,

marigolds, andpeonies:

                                     Abuzz:buzzing and buzzed.