I’ve heard it said
that when you get a bee sting
it means you will gain new insight.
When I got stung, minding my own business
sitting on the warm sand, all I felt was an ember
burning a hole in my back, a frantic itch
I couldn’t reach. I ran to the lifeguard,
crying for him to remove the stinger,
he told me never touch, use a credit card
to scrape the venom off, one brisk move,
eradicate the barb, be certain to get it all
or the poison might spread into your head
where the insight is supposed to go instead.
To this day, part of the stinger remains
lodged under my shoulder blade.
The hallucinations vary. Right now I’m on a boat
sailing backward, all of us on deck lounging, nursing drinks,
lemon wedges swarming with bees, all of us singing songs
with long words, wearing colorful bathing suits,
on our way to meet the Queen who rules beyond
this life, in the forgiving hive of our future.