Bees and Boats
There were dead ones in the attic, only a couple
Wings and limbs torn away
Bodies ripped in half.
The door had been sealed, to protect us from their sting
And they died up there
Nowhere else to go.
Bodies bounced like pebbles, then rested on the ground
He picked one up and showed me
“Look, it’s a honeybee.”
“They’re not wasps?” I asked, then I felt regret
Ashamed and sorry for the others
I’d killed when they arrived.
“They were being attacked,” he said “flying for their lives
A larger colony
Will drive them from their nest.”
They had come on Friday, hundreds smashing on the glass
And then my family heard a buzz
As they breached the barrier.
“Get out of here, I’ll follow”
Before I left I cleared the house, fuelled by fear and ignorance
Killing every wasp inside.
“There’s no nest up there, there’s no danger sir”
I shook my head and tried to breathe
Swallowing my spit.
And I thought of desperate human colonies
They’re not wasps, they’re honeybees
Fleeing war and persecution.
And yet, we call them boat people.
My first book, Myshi Moo and The Frightening Face, is out on 25th July 2024. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever read. You can pre-order your copy here
