Nuptial Flight

We talked for a while and then
I breathed you in, by accident
and like an insect you got lodged
in my throat – I had to swallow
repeatedly to even take stock
of the situation – how your oil
black hair was limp in the heat
and its one colour rainbow sheen
of sun coated me with a sweat.
I digested your little carapace
and now I twitch like a dry
and dying wasp in the porch…
Frankly, my dear, I would most love
to sting you but I am waxy –
look what you’ve brought us to
with your callow disregard
of how you fill the air, and land
in droves on my shirt – cracked
and uneven paving stones are no
solace – get off me, get off, get off.

The Wasp-dream

The kind wasp woke me
It knew that I had dreamt
So its wings began to hit the glass
Til, bruised of life, it went

To a mouldy corner
Of the velux blind
And walked along the window sill
Until it left my mind.

It must have had a seance
Amongst the piling tread
As I later found it curling there
Dried out and dead