Killer Instinct

The hive was many cells
multiplied, transparent
grid of bullet
casings—

Gone now, the wasps
that lived within
the window’s dark
recesses—

Pennant left behind,
dried strip of black
and yellow from
a jacket—

Partitions thin as paper:
don’t touch the barb,
venomous in the wall
of winter—

 

In response to Via Negativa: Provisioning.

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