is like a nest of bees in your heart. It throws
punches against your ribcage with its own
rhythm, its own life. Creatures are in there
doing strange dances to the moon. They're
making sweets to serve their queen, and
constructing elaborate hexagonal palaces in
your veins, your aorta, your vena cava.
They are bowing now: once to the left,
once to the right, rubbing anteannae with each
other in gestures like cheek kisses. "O please
silence," you whisper, "silence and forever sleep."
But secretly, you would never wish them gone.
Without the bees, there would be no honey.
—Tiffany Lee Brown
Excerpted from A Compendium of Miniatures, prose poems by Tiffany Lee Brown. Tiger Food Press, Portland, 2007.