Yellowjacket

01.01.07

So, there was this
                yellowjacket,
        that landed on my windowsill—
the screen was up,
        and the storm window open,
and so that's how he must've
                        gotten in.
        I
        took no notice of him there,
closed the window and
                went about my business—
time went by as usual,
                waiting for no one.
                                And eventually
I found it stuffy,
                and thought it would be nice
        to crack
                the window,
                        let in some air—
and by chance let out
                        a guest.
                                But
        unbeknown to me
                        the wasp
                struggled for an hour
        against the glass
in futility.
                He flew against the pane,
        over and over again
unable to comprehend
                the staggering force
        that kept him sealed
in my room—
                a mausoleum for a
                        variety of creatures
                with segmented limbs
                        and exoskeletons.
He bounced pathetically off that
        amorphous solid
                till every ounce of life
                        was gone from him.
And he lay there
        when I found him—
                and when I freed him,
                        he did nothing.