The Harkening Bees

Jordan Ferensic


What was that thought that you left hanging,
unfinished in the air? An abused ellipsis…
dying at the edge of your tongue.
Dispossessed love is too frequent a mantra,
too often in surplus.
It coruscates the young boys
left to latchkey their way through life,
it tonsures the older boys completely immolated
by their own ideas, cored out
by their desires, left to smolder
and what could I say to them,
even now, as a man
I am weakened by the thought,
the knowledge, that there are
so many more things
than I ever could have imagined,
out of my control, out of any control,
chaos unravels the tapestry of time,
eats my body like a worm cores a fruit.

What did I do, then? I stared at you,
as my mouth lost its faculties
no words mend those dispossessed loves
as they float, numerous as pollen, always
there but never visible, inches from me.

On certain nights, I am nowhere to be found
I think that night, maybe,
I had been dashed all over you, or pulled apart
and stretched over the yard by the spiders.
Sometimes, the mind is absent
sometimes, we want to hurt others
sometimes, there are no words.