Mid-Season Carries Me Like a River
-
depression, bee extermination
The bees drool out of the nest, dead bodies afloat on a river of poison.
...
My neighbor reported their hive this morning. Then, she walked her large brown dog with yellow eyes. She travels a lot, so I’m readjusting to her presence next door. Sometimes when she comes home, I no longer recognize her. The dog anchors me, reminds me that this is my neighbor.
...
The bees float down the stairs.
...
Each morning, I tend the flowers that fill my balcony. I am a meticulous dead-header, a conscientious waterer. What is before me is living wildly, shoots pushing out, and buds bursting open. Each day, the lone strawberry is less green. Her sweet fruit is the only perennial here amongst the raucous flowers made to dance only once. These annuals are in their mid-season, like me. Their pleasure in the sun aches in my bones.
...
Tiny bodies, their wings unimaginably delicate.
...
Too broke for groceries, I cry when a mother blue jay shows up to an empty bird feeder. Her baby is alongside of her, shrill with hunger. They’ve been coming to my feeders for months. It’s a trust we’d built. It’s a trust I’ve failed. Hardly the first. I know when I get my check next week, I’ll vow to never let this happen again. I’ll vow and I’ll mean it. Only, it will happen again. Maybe promises aren’t a thing that I should make anymore.
...
The surviving bees fly over the piles of crumpled bodies, returning to their home.
...
The yellow jacket infestation under the third flight of stairs had been there for weeks. I’d spent all summer long with them. They swirled through life with a light touch of danger, always building. Now they rest, fetal position. Living stragglers loop my ankles, darting in and out of their breached chamber. They had worked all day. Tended their nest, and dutifully provided. They had worked all day.
...
I lie down in the fetal position.
Sarah Sorensen (she/her) MA, MLIS is a queer writer based in the Metro Detroit area. She’s honored to be named a 2025 Best Small Fictions author and runner-up in the 2025 RockPaperPoem Poetry Contest. Sarah’s poetry chapbook, Light Splits Down the Wolf’s Tooth, is now available through Bottlecap Press.