I will screech my mind like the equator
P h o t o b y M a r t a W o j c i k
As the movement of the world encases me
Like a bee in a hive in the larger hive that is the sky
I float, like a hummingbird’s wing-song fidgeting,
A note is all I am among the clouds.
Yet, tomorrow if not today, the crowds of rosebuds
And orchids and water lilies’ dismay
Will be tortuous. Floods overcoming the furnace.
Thickets watching with their vagueness.
They will watch me while they’re aching.
Their pith, their intent, their bareness rings me round.
Effacing! The world amongst me isn’t for the bee
Or the larger hive! A box of stings,
An awing never ending.
B R I A N A L A R C O N