By Jubu Djanx
A dying bee rests on the painted pavement of a rec-yard
enclosure. How it got there when all inside so desperately
want out isn’t beyond imagining. There are no blooms
to attract the bee, no floral scents, but many cells—
as in a hive—populated by unrepentant and penitent, alike.
The bee must’ve made a historic flight through wire mesh
down into the rec-yard, where I alone, a basket-case con,
play naked hoops, shear my hair, & often peer skyward
whenever I hear a parrot pandemonium screech overhead.
I feel as if I’m suffering an unnatural death, like the honey-
maker, its demise signifying the end of a dream. To keep
the reverie alive, unseen by inmate or deputy alike, I now-
or-never swallow the pollinator, perpetrating an insecticide,
making bee part of me, its sting an enduring gift.
Jubu Djanx, born Mike William Panasitti in East Los Angeles, is a graduate of UC Berkeley and former New Folsom inmate. He currently volunteers as a recovery educator in Orange County. His poetry has appeared in Oprelle Publishing’s Matter Anthology, The Awakenings Review, Chiron Review, Calliope, and has been previously featured here on Academy of the Heart and Mind.
