Leur Vol Est Impossible*
I waggle my fingers
in the silky gutter dust,
sifting for bottle caps or acorns.
A pulse of pain throbs.
In my palm a flattened bee,
desiccated, its pile dulled,
fine-veined wings bent and torn.
My first sting,
the venom moving up my finger,
alive and angry.
Walking back to my mother without tears,
I resent the lack of a story.
No buzzing defence of its hive,
not surprised antlers deep
in the throat of violets as I collected,
no purr of wings riding
the last summer days.
Only a child’s lonely street games
and a dead bumble
far from flowers and flight.
* from Le Vol des Insectes by Antoine Magan which suggested bumblebees were incapable of flight
Gerry Stewart is a poet, creative writing tutor and editor based in Finland. Her poetry collection Post-Holiday Blues was published by Flambard Press, UK. Her poetry is widely published in journals and has appeared as part of Poetry Archive's World View, iamb poetry and on the Eat the Storms poetry podcast. Her writing blog can be found at http://thistlewren.blogspot.fi/.
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