Swarm
I became an agate yesterday.
Ribbons of deep red blood and flesh,
Swirling white bands of my bone.
You pressed and stressed me in,
Layers of dirt and millions
Of years of breathlessness.
If I am of the earth,
You buried me here.
I became a hive of bees today.
There were 50,000
Of us tucked into our
Hexagons, and when we found you,
We swarmed, and it was chaos
All the way down.
If I am made of honey and wax,
I am venom, too.
***
Bridget Spoerri is a high school English teacher in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. When she’s not writing or teaching, she loves to go on adventures, collect and classify rocks and plants, and document the beauty in ugly things. Read her work in Sheepshead Review, Inkwell Journal, The Pointed Circle, Pocket Lint, Kithe, The Wisconsin Review, & Red Coyote.