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"Hear The Bee" by John Repp

  • May 23
  • 1 min read

Updated: Jul 2



Hear the bee. Hear the clavichord. Hear the split


lemon of the heart. How? Hunger for sour juice,



soft seeds chewed to bitterness, the heart a relic


of what once got said, of what once said something



about what skin did to skin. Reportedly. She tugs


her left earlobe, the one so far free of piercings.



The asters are purple. As far as anyone knows


(including her) she has never been “tore down



a la Rimbaud,” as the song on heavy rotation


insists throws open the door to bliss.




John Repp is a writer, folk photographer, and digital collagist living in Erie, Pennsylvania. His most recent book is a collection of poems, "Never Far from the Egg Harbor Ice House", published by Sheila-Na-Gig Editions.

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