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(To be read in a looping figure eight pattern, as a mobius strip) absconding hiveafter the swarm :orient: nectar death —“not born, but rather becomes” dearthocellus; oculus; ocelli open Jihye Shin is a Korean-American poet and bookseller based in Florida.Continue Reading

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When the yellow jacket stungmy hand, it died.I plucked out its stingeralong with a portion of its posterior. He bequeathed me his asshole,his apian F-you,and crash dove. He bit the sandand I left a footstep in the trail. For three days, fingers, palm,wrist remained swollen, throbbed.Only my opposable thumb wasContinue Reading

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I have gatheredthe honeythat was inyour hives and whichyou all were surelykeepingfor winter Forgive meit was so pleasingso sweetand so pure Come next yearI will certainlycome searchingfor more Brooke Hoppstock-Mattson is an American poet living in Canada with her spouse and ginger cat, David Bryne. When she is not writing,Continue Reading

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It seems I now see symbolsscattered everywhere. Like the nightmy husband called me overto look out the second-floor windowto the courtyard below, wherewe could see our hive boxesstacked in the ivy bed, illuminatedby the Harvest Moon. There, the lighton the outside of our house and the copper beeornament staked inContinue Reading

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Only one hive made itthrough this furious winterof subzeroes and wind chillbitter disputes andmarital strife; they werethe hardiest, I guess,the colony with a queenbent on survival,in mad love with her brood.After dividing and divisionswe agreed I’d keep the beesand move them down the roadto a friend’s garden: wildflowers,mulberry trees, peace.SoContinue Reading

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Yesterday afternoon The Fly followed me through my doorflying in with the wind because the wind flows with theconfidence of one who knows where to goI, too, follow the wind when I crave an adventurebut The Fly couldn’t have known that my homehas no treasure near, only disarray and disasterContinue Reading

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Sometimes, when no one is watching, the bees tire of their endless laboring and slip away into the beds of clovers to rest. At dusk, rabbits nuzzle them awake as they scrounge through the green, exercising their pastoral rights. Puzzled and drowsy, the bees scuttle into night like tourists inContinue Reading

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My grandmother was the first of us taken by hornets. Rumors had warned us, posters had warned us, even our own TVs: “They can chase a person a quarter of a mile,” “They kill 1,000 people a year,” “They have killed horses,” “They have killed elephants,” “Any given attacker willContinue Reading

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I’ve let the yard go.There’s still grass, yes, but bitby bit it steps aside for dandelionsand violets, creeping vineswith purple flowers, baby bluetsand buttercups. It is as if I’mallowing space for one smallflower per bee, inviting themto my yard for a drink.The neighbors whose lawn is perfect,who mow 3 timesContinue Reading

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Steven broke up with Kelly after she was stung by the bee. I can confirm this because I was there. According to Kelly’s version of the story, she broke up with Steven before the bee sting. I don’t know what I expected when I called her out on the discrepancy.Continue Reading