Bee

At which point
the disenfranchised bees
grew angry,
anti-perspirant
they necked upwards,
intent on the stars.

They chorused a fierce farewell:
You can keep your picnics!

The static sky knew nothing
but a migraine
passing.
When they shook off gravity
and rode outwards,
the earth was a dandelion.
They droned out the radio waves,
made nuisance
in the frail satellites.

All these bees, they peppered on,
no one heard their honey song...

They zizzed until
their throats grew sore,
but found no lemon trees:
none.