anatomy.tif


i. The Bell


   Three monks stand inert beneath their robes.
   Stone bodies that refuse to face forward.
   Toward the call to supper. The church
   Steeple spies them from a forest corner.
   The leaves dissolve unsketched.  To dust
   That the bees scatter. Patterns of flight.
   Their hive undone.  Keepers with cobwebs
   For faces. Tree trunks newly severed.
   Just the fingers exposed (also cloaked).
   Prying open the hive. One body leans
   Hard against the lid. Barrel of honey-
   Comb slanted in sleep. The machine
   Growls at the thief. Bells no longer.
   More than greed tips over the basket.
   In a little while, the bees are glazed
   To the earth. The grass also bowing.
 


ii. The Machine


   The brook spins through the water mill.
   Momentum tuned to the swarm. Both
   Remain concealed. One chest
   And two arms clutch the hive. Honey
   Unsteadies the man. Rolls its weight
   In a gesture of upheaval. The bees (displaced
   Inside) gather to the center. The engine
   Of their anger gaining volume. Panic.
   The keeper’s flagging strength resists.
   He employs his bulk. Each step slumped.
   The ground here also uneven. Whole
   Patches of weeds lie as traps. Big enough
   To trip a man lodged in indecision.
   His uncertain posture starts his feet
   North. His head clearly east. The hive
   Also sets to twist off the canvas. Slip
   Past the keeper’s gaze. Uncaptured.
 


iii. The Basket


   The look-out maintains his perch. His legs
   Wrapped around a tree trunk. One supports
   The other without a hint of embrace.
   A steeple chimes. The quiet below shifts weight.
   Even the roads are clear: no one prevents
   What each suspects. The drapery of the men
   Folds in. The bees all but invisible. No room
   For speech. Only objects moving objects.
   What is done to the hives is also done
   To their keepers. Lurking for gold. Refusal
   To age. Symptoms of hibernation.
   The men are weighed down. The hives asleep.
   Both absorbed in attitudes of stealth. Private
   Fancies betrayed in their feet. The buzz
   That wings leave behind. No one bothers
   To restore. To upright. To empty the mine.
The Beekeepers
By: Tiffany Noelle Fung                   (after Breughel)
InDigest