Go Wasp Go


The wasp was in my hair again.
A place sunny with warmth to land.
My hand gestured at the rain.
Go wasp go.
In the noise.
Knives cutting against plates.
I nervously found my drink.
Red pouring.
Staining of pale lips.
My stomach yawned while my head it ached.
In return, the wasp was tired.
My thoughts had ran him ragged.
Questions were no more.
Go wasp go.

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