A Killing - Sandra Anfang

[Larry Robinson]

A Killing

Black wasps build a nest in the bamboo chime.
I smile as I discover 
the lattice of their honeycomb, 
gamine youth playing 'round the rim.

Long-limbed dancers, pendant legs
dangle from elegant wasp waists;
my mind spins wild imaginings
around this entomological crèche.

And yet they strafe me when I weed
dive-bomb the cats into the hedge,
dare to cruise the kitchen air
wreck my peace so I make a pledge.

I comb the list of euphemisms.
No poison for me, though the die's been cast:
a heavy stream of soapy water
I trust will be the fix that lasts.

I pass the night in fitful naps.
serenity finds no purchase in my dreams.
My parrot mind yammers on 
through backroom murders, shady schemes.

Next morning, when I check the nest
the wasps seem drugged, about to die.
Bodies larded, oiled with glue
they barely lift their wings to fly.

I feel sorrow, but relief as well
for creatures whose only mortal sin
was making their home in a human space.
The cats put on a somber face.

	- Sandra Anfang