And then what

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last spring honeybees
in great numbers, ahead
of blooms, small
striped blimps afur

with fine hair,
cellophane wings
abuzz. Hungry,
they gathered at

saucers of sugar water,
all I could offer until
the blossoms that
loved them no less

opened and smiled,
enfolded their sweet
bee bodies, the age
old fecundity.

Last spring, too, the
persistence of material
reality, punctuation
also in its proper

place. Now males say
they are female.
Synthetic, wombless,
they bypass periods, use

exclamation points,
leave the question
marks for women, who
alone have periods.

How did we get here.

This spring the bees
absent, no sign
of their small
striped bodies,

the empty air
a silent grief.
Where are the
queens, the mothers

of all, the makers
of life. Why are
they not being
honored and fed.

Will they finally
erase them all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: bees, creative writing, female, life, male, misogyny, poem, poetry, protest, punctuation, transgender, women