Embalming Bee

Alone beneath the calming tree
I harvest the embalming bee.
I pluck it from atop the corpse
Before the thanatoxin warps
Its stinger like a plastic straw
Above a flame, ’cause that’s the law
By which I dine: Embalming bees
With ramrod stingers only, please.

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About Michael

Silliness is good
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