“A Bee Was Constantly Roaming In Our Class Up and Down The Benches. Thanks to That Being. ”

Concrete walls with too wide
grids in the window
invite me to fly in, peek
at the dreaming widows.

You know, widow in our language
means the one who lost
their wings while growing legs.
I hope they find it, oh they will.
Look one is hiding it on her
last page. You silly!

Some are silent and some buzz.
Oh these copycats, only if I knew
to create strips more yellow and black
cause
Under the bench lies, cobby
the spider we had a fight
on why that curly-haired girl hates him
and now there are no webs.
I might have gifted him rainbow
colored dust.
I long for grey, wings!
I heard it is a popular
color everyone is proud of
secretly.

I pass through their faces
growing moustaches and
some scented cream.
Their eyes, brown, black
rare to spot a green bead.

Then comes this lady wrapped
in red and blue, claims
she keeps a secret to win this
world, moving.
If only I had stung her hard
she would know, the universe has
moved for us, all.
It will still.
How can you take one
color for the sky if it changes
every moment?
Surprises pop at every corner
when they know they’re mortal.

Look, another wing he gulped
because he was wrong.
I can’t roam anymore here.
If this is how they create
tree breaking
hole making
path turning
rainbow tearing
widows, I might call them married.

Wait a minute.
Is that cobby?
Hello!