by Laura Lee Washburn

After the dog ate the hive,
he hurt and shat bees for a week,  

but the sweet comb drew him 
with its waxy buzz and dripping love.  

And then the tenaciousness of a terrier, 
which he was not, not even part,  

but still, knowing someone fought him 
for this food, drove him to speed.  

Like that, chomp, and it was gone, the sweet 
sting and sting and sting. Oh, honey,  

oh poisonous bees, or pop bottle 
shaken with cold pills, ball of fire, 

everlasting sex, the hunger and the anger, 
all the kids locked out of the room.

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Laura Lee Washburn, Editor-in-Chief of The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative, is a University Professor, the Director of Creative Writing at Pittsburg State University in Kansas, and the author of This Good Warm Place: 10th Anniversary Expanded Edition (March Street), Watching the Contortionists (Palanquin Chapbook Prize), and The Book of Stolen Images (forthcoming from Meadowlark Press). Her poetry has appeared in such journals as New Verse News, Carolina Quarterly, Ninth Letter, The Sun, Radius, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Harbor Review’s annual chapbook prize is named in her honor.