Bees
You have been at market
collecting bees in your pockets
bribing them with lavender flowers and lunch meat
their soft wings like kisses on your wrists and neck
you bring them home day after day
but alas, they never stay
their heart is with the swarm and
that old woman next door has made a deal with the Queen
they can hive in her walls if the Queen’s minions
promise to carry her soul sunward when released
now the swarm labors and drones
between the studs behind her bed
30,000 bodies warm her brittle bones at night
she sleeps away her last days in a house made of honey
About the Author
Poet and songwriter David Rosenheim lives in a solar-powered house by the sea with his wife and two boys. The Weather Band, Hugh, and Winchester Revival have released his songs on seven critically lauded records, and his poetry has been published in journals including the California Quarterly, The Madison Review, The North Dakota Quarterly, The San Antonio Review, The Adirondack Review, Midwest Quarterly, The Dewdrop, Broadkill Review, Frigg and Common Ground. He is a graduate of Oxford University.
