The bees were working the contents

of the fenced-in metal trash bin,

zigging and scribbling past the goo

 

of candy wrappers and the sticky rims

of dented cans, entering, as they might

a blossom, the ketchup-smeared burger

 

boxes and the mold-fuzzed, half-eaten

fruity snack packs, those food-grade waxes

mingling with Band-Aids

 

Davis McCombs – Dumpster Honey (New Yorker)

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