Printer Friendly

Head of a white woman winking.

She has one good bumblebee which she leads about town on a leash of clover. It's as big as a Saint Bernard but also extremely fragile. People want to pet its long, shaggy coat. These would be mostly whirling dervishes out shopping for accessories. When Lily winks, they understand everything, right down to the particle of a butterfly's wing lodged in her last good eye, so the situation is avoided, the potential for a cataclysm is narrowly averted, and the bumblebee lugs its little bundle of shaved nerves forward, on a mission from some sick, young godhead.
COPYRIGHT 1993 World Poetry, Inc.
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 1993 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Tate, James
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jan 1, 1993
Words:97
Previous Article:Color in the garden.
Next Article:The new Chinese fiction.
Topics:

Terms of use | Copyright © 2016 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters