Lisa Grove

Die, Bee Herders

Cough air held warm in the Polish Sigh Bureau.
Get harnessed. The air sighs under.

Welcome words buzz another war,
welcome under over-hopped,
under boring tag, under jar.

We will gild air—
hats, hares under zeppelins.
Welcome words buzz another war.

A man falls in warm flecks,
arrested for fur and murder under
the borrowed sky. Heck,

we cough air with dirt. Oops,
I’m over-hopped!
Welcome under, under.

“Hold hens on stilts! Lick them!
Untick all nicked existence! Imagine sin—

only a burger lickers’ convention.”
Hares cough bigger feathers:
“Die, berserk bee herders!”

Welcome words buzz another war.
Dare and be better off? Nay, Chief, nay, I cough nay.