I, <br />(This piece of shit; worthless, drunk) <br />Think of nothing but shape of hive. <br />“What is a hive? ” <br />You ask and I, the mud in rain, collapse and fall. <br /> <br />She was alone, I heard; in car. <br />I could see her in mind’s mirror <br />With tens of bees roaming around <br />Rolled up windows, doors locked, terror, <br /> <br />I think and thought of bees and hive <br />In same mirror, I could see her, <br />Wetting her pants, being scared, <br />Turning the car to right and left, <br /> <br />Heading for home; best, the cottage <br />They wheezed and wheezed. <br />Like a Martian, she was in mask. <br />It seems funny; comedy films. <br /> <br />A big woman, small the bees <br />In her wet pants, scared as shit <br />Being wooly with no honey, <br />(The food we share with forest bears.) <br /> <br />I laughed! Upset I was, of selfish theft. <br />To rob their food we set the box, domesticize. <br />Honest are bears and have the guts. <br />They reach with hands, we say, “Unwise”.<br /><br />Nassy Fesharaki<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hive/
