Honey and Venom - Cretin

I was eating ice cream when it happened, when she staggered into the mall.

It was hard to see her

features, welted purple as she was.

You heard before you saw it, the buzzing,

all those bees cloud-

ing like a storm.

People panicked, flapping arms as if to fly away.

Mothers hugged their children.

I

jumped into the penny fountain.

Who knows why the woman—dripping honey,

maybe venom—was

hugging that beehive, or why she’d woven flowers in her hair.

The news said

she’d pointed, screaming

for her bees to attack, that she was indigent.

Kids later found her campsite,

full of wax sculptures.

She

finally lobbed the hive through the shoe store window before collapsing.

No one ever mentioned the

craziest part: the bees were obeying.

I swear, the droning seemed to come from

her rictus, like a sigh of

triumph.

They were finding bees for days after things re- turned to normal.