by Wanda Morrow Clevenger
the meek won’t inherit
the earth, hornets will
burrowed in high rise
condominiums
hidden in plain sight
that one sentry
ready eager
for battle
that fatal
pheromone radar
bearing down
they make a mockery
our being, theology,
space station squatted
on our shed
on our magnolia branch
they know they
don’t need a god
to create
orchestrate, obliterate
they are already
omnipotent
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