The memory of wasps is considerable
Think of the way
just days ago as
combed tight content hexagons
were forcefully swept
from the upper corner of the portal
Wing dander, barely opaque veins dismissed
with bits of yesterday’s news and strips of old receipts
their thermal paper blackened by the heat
flew zigzagging into streaming sun rays like violent ticker tape strewn
Prying away dried cases
straight away swiftly by whisk and tippy- toe reach
one dusk the papery hive fallen from its grace
leaving but a few white eggs scattered on the deck
like soft tombstones
Now
on this succulent sunny bright morning
she returns to the abandoned hive
to the pile of bramble cut and fit to be tied
a mother wasp rises up from the shattered shell
and goes for her eyes directly
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