Wounded Wasp (#28)

Wounded wasp,

Turning circles in the sunshine,

Hot with rage and

One warped wing—

I can’t help you,

But wish I could!

To be a surgeon

For your ailment—

Setting angles straight,

Poulticing pain;

But surely you would only

Sting me, bite me,

Passing poison

With no remorse.

Oh, wasp! Such reliable

Waspness! Bless you—

I will see you again
In tall grass, beatific,
Close to the earth,
Where cooling rains linger.