5:43am
by Julie Ritter
My father was a hive
Even strangers came home to him
Before he got sick,
we were sheafy, nested
until something dire awoke
in the dark pith
of his bones
like a fungus weakens the tree
All systems were choked & hectic
like a root ball
We waited for him to rise
and untangle himself
We looked for something strong & straight
We barred the door
keeping quiet
as his marrow's secret turned
like a shifting embryo
of cells forgetting their work
People gathered,
wanting to know
Others busied themselves
dragging pollen to the threshold
We pulled leaves over us
with our teeth, draped one another
like crepe
and licked at our own hands
We curled in on ourselves
like a new fern, but weeping, rocking
as he breathed
and stopping when he did
Then, fully muffled
we rang the bell
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