- Vol. 03
- Chapter 07
Bee LineIt's the stings - they send me
straight into anaphylactic shock, dear,
that's why I always cover up in virgin blue
and narcotic pink, a colour combination
sure as honey's a cure-all, to distance the bees.
The pointy hat and black mourning veil?
an heirloom, passed from mother to daughter
down six generations. Oh, yes, the bees -
the same line my dear, or so I'm told,
since Noah's flood. Do you hear their hum?
A hum they've perfected in their bee tree
for as long as it has stood, this sycamore,
its roots in Dickbrook and its head
swathed in a pure neonicotinoid cloud.