Poem 5, Dead Bees

This has been my first sight of bees
in months after Virginia, in the woods
near the pond where they took to endure
the heat. These two I carried with me
in a paper bag said,
                                    Marlo Barrera
                                    DEAD BEES
I could hear their bodies
against the paper. I could
hear their bodies.



Later, I held the bees
in the palm of my left hand
and walked home to you.

It was the streetlights that made
their bodies glow and my palm endured
the heat as a city block might.

I missed you terribly. The night was cool
but the bees were dead still.
I thought how best we would preserve
them. Last year this time I didn’t know
you and now I’m bringing these bees to you, a gift.





-marlo barrera, november 2009