I,
(This piece of shit; worthless, drunk)
Think of nothing but shape of hive.
“What is a hive? ”
You ask and I, the mud in rain, collapse and fall.

She was alone, I heard; in car.
I could see her in mind’s mirror
With tens of bees roaming around
Rolled up windows, doors locked, terror,

I think and thought of bees and hive
In same mirror, I could see her,
Wetting her pants, being scared,
Turning the car to right and left,

Heading for home; best, the cottage
They wheezed and wheezed.
Like a Martian, she was in mask.
It seems funny; comedy films.

A big woman, small the bees
In her wet pants, scared as shit
Being wooly with no honey,
(The food we share with forest bears.)

I laughed! Upset I was, of selfish theft.
To rob their food we set the box, domesticize.
Honest are bears and have the guts.
They reach with hands, we say, “Unwise”.

Nassy Fesharaki

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hive/