All at once, here at home, a stinger

by Shalini Singh

A little step in nectar 
and I know I am home
A crooked arrow points me like yellow mandibles on mad honey

Where my mother is waiting in a hive 
And I was born in a pollen basket woven into the skies 

With my hands that rocket towards the doorknob
hallucination from a frothing beebread and a sob 

My mother shutting the door tight
My father finally coming home at night