The Promise
Joseph R. Trombatore

The bees arrived yesterday
their elegant tension
still
as a coiled asp

a soprano’s captive audience

like an orchestra
warming up in the dark
just the cellos, at first
a serial killer
looking for a safe place
to sharpen his knives
to oil his artillery

like Laban
we'll promise them Rachel
make them labor another 7 years
offer up our cupped hands
in praise
our jars
our bared throats
seemingly
always hungry

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