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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