29 August 2004 10 35 am to 17 35 pm
A wasp just came flying into my room,
a touch down landing by the CD rom
when I was
poor hash typing here
I stopped my work
then went near
the landing zone
bent down to peer
at the insect in two break up parts, from whom
I didn’t expect such calm aplomb
I watched in true Mr Attenborough way
noting the colour
size of leg and wing
resplendent
in its rugby kit
its bisected thorax
glowing fit
it stayed unmoving for a bit,
meaning I could watch the fellow play
the rear that housed a painful sting.
Then, bored with being examined thus
it was time for take off, around it flew
to check out
the cable wiring
going round
no signs of tiring,
pausing now and then
admiring
the décor without any fuss
checking out the things that it knew
By the mirror, it seemed to play
a sort of beauty parlour game,
amusing
watching it have fun
peering at
the eastern sun
whose independent
warm rays run
to telegraph their fission way
through the opaque glass of window frame
Then it was up to make sure that the fan
was operating in a proper way
the blades were turning
fair and square
using torque
to get up there
the throttle of
the beating air,
then descending onto a new flight plan
to reconnoitre cushions rough array
Buzzing silent sonata wise
to check on my poem diskette
maybe it was a
spy or drone
no sign of gun
or microphone
no back up
operating alone
no spider, worm, or henchmen flies
and reinforcements hadn’t appeared yet
I thought that it didn’t mean any harm
as it flew around my legs and back
I used the air to
brush away
maybe it thought
I wanted to play
like bull and matador
olé
its attacking moves were a false alarm,
Grand Prix winding like the Monaco track.
Up the wardrobe tight cliff it went, before
resting high on a door break crack
It could have thought
the varnish cheap
had a quick
thirty second sleep
by A4 papers
in a heap
then checked on long gone mother in law
and had a word with Boris Pasternak
It flew past the children’s dinosaur book
reading the name on their computer game
The shells and egg
Rhiannon’s art
the handmade
tiny scooter cart
the rubber seed now
split apart,
then, as a grouper getting off the hook
it disappeared as quiet as it came
But why on earth it came into this place
when there were other places it could be
The boardroom
of some company
The terraces
Wasps RFC
or a cake shop
or a bakery
I didn’t get to know its age or race
nor its gender or nationality
I wonder was there a bachelor flat
or somewhere nearby a caring spouse
Did they kiss and
hold each other?
Did it have a home
and mother?
Perhaps a sister or
a brother?
But to me, it was rather touching that
it came to see me in my empty house
A wasp just came flying into my room
a touch down landing by the CD rom
In my mind
I see it clear
even though it’s
no longer here
thank you, you brought
a little cheer
to a teacher in two broken parts, from whom
no one here expects such calm aplomb
And the little bastard didn’t sting me...
oh, oh, it’s back... get away, get away, get away... ouch
