Mother Wasp

Today I watched a wasp try to carry her egg all the way across the garden bed.

It’s weight dragged her down, so she left the babe

Came atop a flower, wiped off her legs

And flew away

I picked up the egg, it’s still-translucent head was beginning to poke out. 

It wriggled as I held it

I wondered if it could see the world

If it saw its mother fly away

My mom carried her own baggage away

Left me, at home, to fend on my own

So she could pursue another day

So you ask, “why do I like bugs, when nobody else does?”

Because my mom left before I learned that only birds like bees,

Not little girls with dreams, unaware of how they’re supposed to be.

So I listened to their buzz, buzz in the quiet breeze

And as I watched their selves, I saw myself

Teeny tiny and strong and free