from a porch, stung by a wasp

wasps nests cling

to broken clay pottery

moved about the yard

after sun descending lethargy takes hold

we’ll deal with it tomorrow

or the day after

as long as we don’t get stung

hand-waving-yelp-scurried walks inevitable, by those still innocent enough to find fear in insignificant insects

‘they’ll leave you alone, if you leave them alone’

we say

wishing this were true about those few who cling together in hive mind habitats

displays of broken integrity, power

run away, yelp, wave our hands chaotically, or hide inside

we can’t escape

ideas shape shift, walk through walls, cascade down halls

and find you

they live long after the sting

cold packs won’t reduce your pain

swelling, a reminder

not to listen

to adages meant for truth

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