Vox Populi

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Beth Copeland: Good Intentions

It’s not the bee’s fault, Daddy says, pulling

the stinger

from the tender flesh of my inner arm. Look, 

it’s dead. It didn’t


mean any harm. The honeybee,

no bigger than a pumpkin

seed in his palm, its striped

torso of topaz

and gold like a Phoenician

bead. But I didn’t mean

to kill it. I didn’t

even see it until

it stung. Bees hover

above dandelion

suns and buzz from purple clover

to hive. I will love

and be loved, sting and be

stung. No one

gets out


Copyright 2018 Beth Copeland

Beth Copeland’s most recent collection is Blue Honey published by Broadkill River Press.

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This entry was posted on July 23, 2018 by in Environmentalism, Poetry and tagged , , , .

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