Sunday, July 18, 2010

The Bee

I left him
where he fell on the bedroom floor,
for although he was no longer
alive, in death his fullness
preserved, startling to the sight.

I wondered how he’d hid away
in my bag, unnoticed and died
there, untouched. I sat on my bed,
how am I to murder this already resting thing?

Swiftly tissue covers-
I am sorry to disturb you.


marit said...

I really like how each line in the poem means something in and of itself. I also like your precise use of language.

A.Martinez said...

thanks marit! what a nice compliment.