Tuesday, December 7, 2010

St. Ambrose (patron of bees & beekeepers)


I threw the wine bottle

from the top of our stairs


and it clattered into the

living room--unbroken


and left a blue shadow

in its wake.


a bee stormed out,

found me mid-step

on the stairs, and poised

its stinger on the apple

of my cheek.


all I could think of

were shipwrecks--

those masts bent

like skinny elbows


sails torn

straight down

their vertebrae.


we breathed in

together, me and

that bee--


tensed for the moment

he’d choose life

or death.

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