Why The Bee Crossed The Road

Why The Bee Crossed The Road short poem

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I have lived
One and a half billion seconds

In this age of miracles
A computer and a minute tell me that

The sun is up
There’s no surprise in that
A beautiful day to be alive
So long as you survive

Parts of Brooklyn Avenue
Are pitted around smooth plates
Like a skin disorder
An extra-solar lava field

I walk the middle
To avoid spider silk
Gossamer caresses from persistent ghosts

It gets me thinking about the dead
How my father has never haunted me
That I can understand
But my mother recently dead has failed to speak
Or is the inverse true
She speaks all the time
My name writ broad in clouds and coincidences

There is a glossy black bumblebee in the road
Six legged walking
Wings unmoving
An ungainly flier it must have gained the ground to die
The rest of its life easily calculated in seconds

Would it be a mercy to stomp it dead
Or does it even feel pain
Does it listen to the echo
Of its tiny heart inside its tiny head
Thus it takes another set of steps
Dreams of gaining the gutter
And the golden hive beyond

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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1 Comment on "Why The Bee Crossed The Road"

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Nadeem Qazilbash
Member

Where do people go past the other side of the road. Dad, and definitely mom had all the answers but not for this.

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