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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