A Dream Of Bees In Black And White
Pain comes first, piercing, pure. The stinger stabs deep, pricks nerve endings to burn. No sound. No buzz. No smell or color. Just movement. The bees are dying. No one knows why. Just speculation & a name. You must have a name, must name something before it can become a thing. The bees are dying. The colonies collapse. But the stinger still hurts & the bee, black & stiff, drops to the grass. A swarm of bees, falling, failing, dying. The thing - what is it called?
Hank Kalet is a poet and journalist, whose work appears regularly in NJ Spotlight, The Progressive and The Progressive Populist. He teaches news writing at Rutgers University and writing at Middlesex County College. HIs chapbook, Certainties and Uncertainties, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2010.