Two Poems
by Lois Marie Harrod (August 2020)
Bees, Graham Sutherland, 1963
The Latest Buzz
Bumble
bees
do not
have ears
and no one knows
if they hear.
Nor do
the Bombus
really dance—
though
after forage
they buzz to nest
and fuzz laps
around their fellows
before
resuming field.
Some think
this drone and prance
be
communication,
and surmise
the humming hymn
gives spin
to all the noise
at tracked
and trackless
competitions.
Where the Womb, Now Worry
Oh, my darling, I am emptied
like an orange peel of its orange,
like an apple skin swirling air,
thin or thick, often humid, heavy,
a potato peel coiling a density
where its body has been, oh the grit of husk,
the little eyes warting the wrap,
nasty and larval, sending up stem.
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