Queen Bee
after Kara Walker
fertility will make us
mothers—moans to be seeded and cropped.
we chose the dusk to run the field but clouds
of pollen glazed our skirts, made our bellies
titillate. at dawn they calculate abundance
by the swelling. the most suffocating
body is queen: her tits, huge wooden spoon servings
of piquant. her dark haloed nipples, a hive
a shack
of heirlooms—honey
when she squats low, something like the sky
about her, watch them come out
she births the shadows
by Charleen McClure
fertility will make us
mothers—moans to be seeded and cropped.
we chose the dusk to run the field but clouds
of pollen glazed our skirts, made our bellies
titillate. at dawn they calculate abundance
by the swelling. the most suffocating
body is queen: her tits, huge wooden spoon servings
of piquant. her dark haloed nipples, a hive
a shack
of heirlooms—honey
when she squats low, something like the sky
about her, watch them come out
she births the shadows
by Charleen McClure
Charleen McClure is a poet currently residing in New York City. She was born to Jamaican parents in London, England and later immigrated to Atlanta, Georgia. She received her BA in English-Literature from Agnes Scott College and is a Fulbright scholar. Her work has also appeared in Kinfolks Quarterly and African Voices.
