Poetry | Rebekah Miron


Swarm call

This city will never miss me like the bees.
A livid whisper of honey wise and freedom
sounding too far out.

We are silver, a shiver for wing, each one,
born in want of colony, crystal, hive,

graceless giants.

I’d give these gold tipped streets for one night flight.
To soar dawn red across a morning shepherd’s delight,

terrible comet and heart –

I’ve heard the swarm call.


Instructions for Bee-Keeping

Honey is hot, sticky and permanent.
Don’t pretend to know.
Never call them your own.

Keep them from predators, the lithe vixen
dressed in gold leaf, the callow wood bears,
the hummingbird with its slick blade and velvet breast,
feel that thrum in your own chest – you’re the worst of them.

Respect the Queen, she thinks little of you, remember that.
She is amber and malevolent, poised then cascading,
five beady eyes glittering for chaos.

Take a deep breath.

Give her time, give her space – that’s it,
her fur coat twitches appreciatively,
she knows the world is hungry.

Respect the hive, the colony,
a community much like your own,
they are more than you know.
More swarm than we’ll ever be.

If you’re here for rule, to feel powerful,
lay your veil on the ground. There is no glory in gold.

You were told not to call them your own.

The Queen flies, her tail twitches.
A wild sting in your throat.

Rebekah Miron is a Creative Writing Masters student at the University of Cambridge. She was Editor of The Mays Anthology XXIV, Editor for Cambridge Creatives in 2016 and also a Junior Editor at Rainy Fiction in 2014, previously led by poetry collective Thirteen Pages. Her creative work has been published by The Cadaverine, The Kindling Journal, Miracle E-Zine, INK, Camverse, Notes and featured onstage at Cambridge Junction.

Website: www.rebekahmironpoetry.com
Facebook: Rebekah Miron Poetry


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