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
alive.
Copyright 2018 Beth Copeland
Beth Copeland’s most recent collection is Blue Honey published by Broadkill River Press.
