All Those Bees

And if you just start writing, something will come to you

They say.

Something from the deep dark inside of you.

In that buzzing beehive of a ribcage where all your secrets are kept

Fluttering around

Bumping up against your sternum

Making you flush with alarm at the thought of one of those bees slipping through the hollow tunnel of your tongue

Or the gaps in your teeth.

Keep them locked tight in that cage of bones

Or the colony will slowly emerge

bee

by

bee

And some big white suit

With no face

And a backpack full of poison

May mistake your bees for wasps

And stick his long wand down your throat

And fill your cavity with poison

And then you’ll be hollow

And you’ll be just a cage

And you’ll miss the thudding

And the heat

And the vibrations

On the backside of your sternum

And you’ll wonder if you’ll ever get it back

But then you’ll wonder if there was ever really room in there in the first place

For all those bees.