By Danielle Liza Beeber
Lost sense of incoming substance
While bees buzz nightly at the hub of my old existence
I check the battlements and doors
My watch is ticking and there is no time to be anywhere
I am lost
Where is my check?
Where is my ploy?
Where is that new?
While bees buzz nightly at the hub of my old existence
I check the battlements and doors
My watch is ticking and there is no time to be anywhere
I am lost
Where is my check?
Where is my ploy?
Where is that new?
Written for Poetry Magazine 2011
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