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Today I learnt that wasps die inside of figs

Today I learnt that wasps die inside of figs

not a bee but a wasp
resting in the womb of a fig
reproductive sweetness
will eat at my wings
I made my bed in this sugary brain
hanging from a tree, a family
of ripe shrunken heads
but it sort of spoils a fruit salad
to know they’re made of death

my mother was a bumble bee
too fat to leave the floor
I have a hundred times excelled her
so what a fine way to let her know
I was worth sleeping through life for
miraculous, mystery will become
of me, seeds will pull towards the sun
like zombies
until there’s a cemetery of fig trees