Sting

| FROM THE MUSE | BY AUDREY WHITE | MAY, 2013 |

Hornets cloud above my head
Like paralytic gas.
Their fury echoes through my ears
And fear freezes my blood.

If I am still, do I become
Invisible to them?
My motionless shield
Might be enough to save me.

But I twitch—
As if motion were a need—
And my body is no longer mine.
They break me once.

I flinch, and they are on me,
Injecting me with sparks.
My veins are burning
Copper wires beneath my skin.

Now all my limbs are thrashing;
I’m crying for release,
But I can feel my heartbeats
Going numb—