Living With Carpenter Bees
They are dug in under the screen door
where my foot swings, where concrete crumbles.
Fat and fuzzy the bees scurry as heavy as baby mice.
They share an apartment with a chipmunk,
and a long amber centipede
that sometimes emerges
to ripple-wave at something only it can see.
The bees skim a small acreage, meander low;
rotund whirring blimps that chase each other
in a small circle of light.
When night drips from the roof,
we share a living space
made for their hypnotic huddles,
and my unpacked shadows.
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