POETRY

Restricted Area

0

Do not enter.
There is no point
for your miscalculations
here. A bee cannot force
its way into a tightly sealed

A “Restricted Area” sign PHOTO BY ELVERT BARNES VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

jar. With such a pace,
my brother and I
cannot dance to
your buzz. So
do not thank us,
for we do not send our
thanks just like that.
Apologies. Apologies.

Do not come closer.
Barbed wires are our
daily bread. And we
know no reason for
you to be spared of
this kind of misery,
or is it, really?

Do not say that I
did not give you
a warning. We do not like
to buzz around. It is not
our task to milk or
make honey.


When you hear the jazz,
louder and louder,
find your ears—
find your hands—
cover your mouth.

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