Wasps + Windows

Dropping dead like flies doesn’t seem so awful, tonight I killed a hive of paper wasps. The arid stank of gasoline as the foam projected into the corner of the awning. They immediately fell twelve feet, bouncing off the porch railing, off the edge of the porch, falling into the lawn. There they were left, part of me hopes one will fly away in the night, find a better spot for a nest. It was shocking how quickly it took effect, how helpless their bodies, that I’ve watched for weeks around our porch columns, just fell. Maybe it was the plethora of death in a single place but time felt slow and at the same time I couldn’t count the second it took for their bodies to plummet.

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To those who haven’t thrown a rock through a window
The sound of glass shattering is the only moment you hear your own name
To those who haven’t heard their own name
There are people itching to show you a pitcher’s arm
To those who can only see in, standing out
Follow the rock, dive head first through the picture window during dinner
Listen for the call out, listen for them calling you home