Tonight's Poet Corner: Little Workers
Little Workers
by Belinda Roddie
The honeycomb of headlights
triggers me
back to a previous suitor
of mine who was filled
to her boots with bees
Golden hair to match little golden
bodies clustered in bedazzling lumps
all up and down her front,
never stinging her, not once
She was a pretty picture at
the apiary, surrounded by waxy
hives, and she tasted sweet, too,
like the natural product
of her adopted sons and daughters
I hear the buzzing now, from both
the insects and my lover's lips,
but then the humming turns into
a roar, and I'm back on the road
receiving an angry automobile's kiss
by Belinda Roddie
The honeycomb of headlights
triggers me
back to a previous suitor
of mine who was filled
to her boots with bees
Golden hair to match little golden
bodies clustered in bedazzling lumps
all up and down her front,
never stinging her, not once
She was a pretty picture at
the apiary, surrounded by waxy
hives, and she tasted sweet, too,
like the natural product
of her adopted sons and daughters
I hear the buzzing now, from both
the insects and my lover's lips,
but then the humming turns into
a roar, and I'm back on the road
receiving an angry automobile's kiss
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