for Sinéad O'Connor
“This disgusting world broke her and kept on breaking her.”
are social wasps
feed their young the meat of
some, the same shape as them.
chewing on raw hide, crunchy thorax
sweet, juicy abdomen
partially ingesting before regurgitating
for their larvae
inhabit large colonies, tiered combs
buried underground in tree stumps, hollow logs
earth dwellers who never sleep.
workers live for weeks while
the queen survives for months
an endless cycle
once I stepped on a nest in the ground
two dozen mincing my flesh
burrowing the pork of my heel
their stingers prodding
sharp as barbed wire.
even years later
my skin could still recall the sensation
of them feasting,
nettling little cannibals
like high school girls or
heads of companies, CEOs.
it feels at times
as if the whole world is one big swarm
pecking at fleshy tissue and muscle
meat meat meat
in memoriam for Sinéad Marie Bernadette O'Connor