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.
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