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.

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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