Palinode 17

To decide between the bees
Settling into supper
Still quiet
Picks a different cup

Bees scatter and sense—

        I start to undress the noise, but it follows

Still
sounds too loud

the winded population is
a stomachache
a pot-roast most people dress down

I didn’t want to pile up my clothes
the same,
I say,

anti-

anti-

anti

and I became a pumping steamship

        --green lakes flat as hard wood this would be quieter--

and I became a pocket purse and waited to get full

No buildup of brandished waves
No sloppy liquid lake splashing out of the sink

I can recant the messy afternoon—

Quiet the quieters hushing me

It’s not the humming bees that bother

I have forgiven them

When will the winded, the noisy, hush up its--

              -renowned
    -surround.