Poetry | December 11, 2020
Poems: Ronda Piszk Broatch
I’ve Got an Asinine Affinity (Infinity?), a Clumsy Love Song
The bees of the heart weave stillness into a conversation.
String theory is smaller than the bees in the honey tin,
larger than the bats hanging from the DO NOT DISTURB
sign. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d rearrange my family’s lives
above the upright piano, would spring a new theory in a blue-
me world, where wandering beyond the yard sets my laughing
gear in motion. If only my iPhone had a zapper app
I’d deploy it at the movies, but for now I just use my keys.
Tell me about your everyday love, and I’ll tell you how
the worm bin is haunted, and the fact that I hid the rules
in back of the cider house, in a can of Lyle’s Golden Syrup. Sticky
sunrise, and UPS brings a broken administration all the way
from the America, the box intact. I miss my life, I really do.
The bees of my heart sing the Mad Girl’s Love Song
so often my quarantine has an earworm, and the rat
in my compost pile steals the worms. If I wasn’t so tired
I’d be detachable, capable of reliability, but that’s debatable.
In an old insane world, the able are constantly bewitched, which
is good, in my book. Close your eyes, pots and pans, running
water. Can’t you hear the phone ringing? The Mad Girl’s
in the Bee Box, and I’ve got a sloe-gin theory about that.
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