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Poem

A wasp flew in the room today
Before the class began;
It hummed through the fluorescent light
Then landed in my hand.

He walked around the inner palm
And whispered with his wings;
The creature tickled me with hate
And tempted me with stings.

I took the wasp and said to him,
“Now listen here, you beast.
If you can do one thing for me,
Consider this the least:

You fly yourself to somewhere else
And leave my hand alone;
My hand belongs to someone else,
So get, you dirty drone!”

The wasp sat still and didn’t budge;
If anything, it slept;
A slothful bug, to say the least,
And this I’d not accept.

I then heard footsteps in the hall
And heard my crush’s will;
“Hurry! Leave! She’s walking in!”
The wasp sat silent still.

She entered through the wooden door
And sat right next to me;
But as she reached out for my hand
That shook reluctantly,

She saw the buzzing, blackened beast
And screamed a deaf’ning shriek;
She ran back through the wooden door,
Her heels had left a streak.

I then looked down and thought about
The shot that I had missed;
It was then, I realized,
That I had clenched my fist.

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