Sean Borodale
24TH MAY: COLLECTING THE BEES
langue: anglais
traductions:
allemand (24. MAI: DIE BIENEN EINSAMMELN)
24TH MAY: COLLECTING THE BEES
I'd say it's toiling air, high up here;
steep with bees, and the beacon sun
burns
overlapping light, close to sundown.
Come to collect bees, our hive in parts.
Compound of fencing, stands of nucleus hives.
(Nuc,
new word.)
He just wears a veil, this farmer, no gloves
and lifts open a dribbly wax-clogged
blackwood box.
We in our whites mute with held breath.
Hello bees.
Drops four frames into our silence.
The air is like mica
ancient with thin flecks;
distance viewed through a filter of thousands.
I am observed.
Each box has the pulsar of its source. Porous with eyes
we wait in the spinning sun. The light is Medusa,
sugar of frayed threads; a mesh, a warp-field, all
the skin of our heads.
