Love Sonnet for Idgie Threadgoode
The mason bees are buzzing. It’s a summer
afternoon. Their nest is hidden inside
the earth. I lie belly to brown barrenness.
No water falls from the sky, just these vibrating
buried bodies beneath the tall magnolia. I am
alone. Husband and sons vanished to somewhere not
here, bees a cacophony muffled below
my body. I am sleepy as the sun burns
my naked back, the single string of a bathing
suit top stops nothing. I blatantly signal for stings,
daring because I still dream of the blond bee
queen from Fried Green Tomatoes, still envision
frozen ponds and flying ducks in the middle of a scorching day.
These bees have no honey to offer. I love them anyway.
