After-Swarm

Published online with From Whispers to Roars, 2020

I’ve begun to see my home

for what it is-

an apiary.

The cold corner by the bathtub

I sit, scrubbing. Scouring the

dull, dead flakes of faux-porcelain

and cheap linoleum that I outlived

once again.

Here I scrape out the bad brood,

here I wait

for some lucky Wednesday we’ll tumble

in the hard water together to pass some hours.

I stand at the kitchen sink.

We’ve lost fifteen minutes

or more

to hating one another again,

to accusations over royal jelly,

over nothing-at-all.

I made the wallpaper tremble with

the bluntness of my words.

Rinsing out a sorry mug,

the accusations come

tumbling out again

and

I am an

after-swarm.