ACT NATURAL
In this hell that god shat
I was walking barefoot
through clover and stepped
on a blossom-guzzling bee,
which stung me with such
heroic furor that I screamed
and dropped my book of nature.
I crushed that goddamned bee,
which had injected into me
more of itself than it was.
When there is only pain
there is only pain.
There was only pain.
A marsh wren laughed.
From that time I began
to walk and fear bees
at the same time, which is
impossible. Thus another
bee I did not see swerved
toward me like an atom.
It stung me so hard it died,
which seemed like the best
idea. I sank to my knees,
swollen with otherness,
as if to propose marriage
to a dead girl at the center of
a blue flower. There was not
a hole in the whole forest
to slither away through, nor
a sky to turn around in and
help myself. It was for once
impossible not to act.
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