Queen Bee by Emily Nelson, read by Mac Vogt

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Queen Bee

She can open doors for you two feet up in your beds while you sleep faithful to your green grass she is no Waterloo of her beehive. She is looking for something higher up than her sixty-two feet red maple bowing to its own crimson death. A mind perhaps dumb fickle and oblivious. She has only but purpose to invade you set up residency where governments collapse become the supreme ruler. Something like a thought that runs like a train she'll make her throne from your nerves. Watch her! Weapon whetted with her swarm digging niches in your skull. She is the beginning of origins black like Europe in times of the great plague always pulling hearses to her bees keeping clocks.

A huntress she keeps score of her slaves drones in the honey machine. It is your blood she needs full bloom between her legs like eyelashes fluttering wings marking off pimps at the holy station of angels in cheap plaster. Markova of the nightcap you are trapped in her queenship like a whore at a street corner. Child what it has cost her of priests shrinks club-footed midgets climbing her in tea parties. Queen of the inrectractable in the becoming era of the deny it! Love thee and pigs in Jesus bandages she became the Queen bee of your heavenly Sodome. She has no pity for cadavers swarm in her wake she is one steely dead heart inside a lover. ~en

copyright Emily Nelson 2019