Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Ted Walter

print this page

Wasps

Unlike the bees, those messengers of gods
bringing honeyed wisdom, wasps raid and sting.
They live maliciously, striking fear;
their black and yellow bodies shout beware
and like all pests are best exterminated.
So kill the bastards. Be sure to kill them all.

And if I had? This limb beside the wall
being mined for pulp, best seams extracted
deep into the dark, would be just dead;
sawn off to throw away or burn. Instead
a nest, painstakingly contrived behind
the soffit of my roof, hangs there, confined
above my desk. The engineers to and fro
incessantly, reel beyond my window;
out to the greengage tree and back, each one
adding to cells that house the young,
or feeding them with insects chewed small.

And if I had, would I today hear wings
beating in unison, the ardent song
of a contented cat deep into a purr.
The pulse, from gentle, thrums,
stops, begins again just for a while.
Silence. When next it starts I take a chair,
get closer to the ceiling. It is there
I can listen to, how many? Maybe a legion,
marshalled meticulously, keeping the nest cool.

 

Page(s) 25

Back to top