Fake Bee

Fake Bee

She pressed her back against the lamppost
at the corner of correspondence and fake hello,
she concentrated so hard on certain roof top shades
that she felt her hot plate palms pulse.

She remembered the craft mat,
the pipe cleaner fake bees
that her and her sister tied onto pieces of string.
She was sure she heard the seagulls say
‘and you refuse to even listen’.

A pile of newspapers heffed in a doorway
shows its gusset headlines
‘uranium has become
hot stuff on the stock exchange’
‘Lord Foster builds a school without a playground.’

She picks up the strings of both bees
and takes a short cut off left to avoid the stinging trees.