| Sunday, September 30, 2007 |
| Bee |
My house is at the top of the hill
I am walking down. I am not wearing enough
to keep me warm. The stiff edge of my
right shoe cuts my heel. Only one of
my eyes is made up. My hair is wet.
I am late, of course. It is no longer summer.
These circumstances may or may not matter.
My step is quick and regulated but my gaze
is free and fickle. The sharp crack of something
frail yet substantial brings it down
to a burst of blond splinters and a
branch. Beside this lies a bee.
Its wings move thinly but I do not think it’s alive.
It is quiet and shiny, smaller than a bullet.
If my foot had come down closer, I would
not have known. And it would not have
mattered if I did. But curled on the
grain of the sunned concrete, it persists,
vaguely preserved in unknowable dignity.
The body is pristine, compact,
its colors are elegant. Mine keeps moving. |
posted by rebeccacalvetti @ 2:13 PM   |
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| About Me |
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Name: rebeccacalvetti
Home: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
About Me: I got brunette hair which goes dirty blonde under the sun. I have green eyes and am not particularly short or tall. People who have seen me in a two-piece or less say I have fine decolletage.
See my complete profile
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