The Wasps’ House
Mortared by macerated wood-pulp effluvium,
a paper palace hangs.
The young queen spun her eggs and hatched her grunts.
Regan Good
Poetry
A Stone Should Mark the Place
The natural law is wearing winter’s face.
Was Not Trusted, Was Not Taught
Breathe when they aren’t looking. Suck your fists if you have to.