“I shall be a productive little bee!”
She said. The hive, though, gave her everything:
All of the honey she could manage – free!—
And then a drone who could have been a king.
The music played. She didn’t have to sing.
She was led through museums full of art.
Police protected her: no need to sting—
Although she could have stung with all her heart.
Her fierce career just never got a start.
Her sweet career was all consumer lax.
Having been coddled, she came quite apart
When envy executed its attacks.
Bees blamed her for their problems: “You’re obscene—
Both an oppressor and a welfare queen!”
(First appeared in The Lyric, v. 94, n. 2, Spring 2014)