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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