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We’ve suited up into our white coveralls, gloves, hard hats, elasticized netting. Tom says he feels like a volunteer firefighter on a last-minute call, pulling on equipment, rushing out the door. My suit is stained with splotches of honey and propolis and old smoker residue. In three years, I’ve neverContinue Reading

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Bees crashing,Fights gaining wind,I feel the stings in my legs… Hunting down my queen in a slow pace,Fertilising her at one go,She goes flying by mating flight.Disappearing as she would. Bleeding with each beeping,I feel the stings in my legs… Misbeliever!I am ejected from my nest!Only for the sake ofContinue Reading

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Rebecca Patrascu works as a library associate for the Sonoma County Library. Her writing has appeared in publications including Smartish Pace, Glint, The Shore, Bracken Magazine, Prairie Schooner, Colorado Review, and Valparaiso Review. She has an MFA from Pacific University and is the author of the chapbook Before Noon. SheContinue Reading

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Sweet Time Honey’s timeless flowmocks the clock’s imperativetakes its own sweet time On Making Frames The keeping of beesBecomes a carpenter’s affair;tonight, I’ll wash the gluenot the honeyfrom my hair. Solstice Restless, knowing thateven the longest day castsshadows on the hive Mary Salome (she/her) is a queer Arab- and Irish-AmericanContinue Reading

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Guiding and gliding as a siren,She is the queen bee of this new eusociality,Is she my Quantic belle? I blush as a drone!Instrumental shapeshifter in the apiary,We acreage all our beekeeping. Safeguarding beehives to serve our queen bee.I blush as a drone!Is she my Quantic belle?She is the newest pleonexia.Continue Reading

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The bodies of the dead are carried,massed in their final resting place,laid away from the hive, unburied. This task falls on shoulders wearied—Mahogany boxes, wooden faces.The bodies of our dead are carried. Humans go below ground to be buried.Bees are piled above, in the shade,laid away from the hive, unburied.Continue Reading

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“Do you ever feel restless?” Asked the worker of a drone. “Long to live beyond the structuresThe hexagons of honeycombs? Ever feel we’re something more Than antenna twitches And wing flicks And buzzing bands of yellow In vast washes of green Under distant blankets of blue? Away from the queenApartContinue Reading

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The bees are laden with pollenthis time of year. I watch themlabor to rise, to carry theirbounty home. No malaise there, no sense of opportunities lost,ninety days doing what they wereborn for, a life fulfilled.Retirement is not part of their contract, of course, never thishammock, never these gin rickeys,never thisContinue Reading

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Eloping,I ran back to the fresh beehive,I found solace in those little creatures, I shut down all modalities of modernity.I craved for peace when my heart pulsed. Freshly allied with the horizon,I laughed with the honeybees, Pulsating of thrills,I relapsed in an extinguished breathe, One which I lost on myContinue Reading