Work
drones are dead by win-
ter. workers
never
finish.
start
at larva,
nursed for
a week on jelly,
pollen, honey—
then sealed
to
sleep.
when she
wakes—a bee—
she must demolish
the wax
door or
who
else
will. they
all do; then
groom legs and rise to
raise pupae.
milk throbs
‘cross
eyes,
then sweats
to succor
a queen. next, hanging,
she makes house,
then cleans.
spick &
span’s
the span,
so’s fanning,
slipping pollens in
slim panniers,
nectar
distilled.
the
flowers.
the flowers.
the flower’s firm threads.
embalming;
killing
what’s
killing.
and if
a queen goes
missing or one wants
one might learn
to lay
drone
sons
who will
take no share
in the labor whether
effort is
waste or
effort
of laying waste.
—
Alyssa Perry lives in Iowa City, where she works as a teacher, actor, proofreader, and editorial assistant with Rescue Press. She holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Her recent work appears in jubilat, West Branch Wired, and LVNG.
—
Photo by Emma Frances Logan on Unsplash