For The Hive

We shiver in honey cells,
Hexagonal slickness
Blinding our queens and
Our one-eyed kings

Workers working, the guardian
Drones in the distance.
Deep, anatomically –
We mutate.

She lands noisily, and
Dances for my sweetness.
Many-coded signals
Gesture, grind, gyration.

When this legged congregation moves across the Baltic sea,
Our lips buzz with devotion, we catch a glimpse of

Girls from Estonian towns
Sleepwalking amber –
Hoarding time and
Grains of sugar

Waiting matriarchs,
Constant birthing,
Antiseptic, Swollen behinds
Hiding their useless barbs.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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