Sting

A wasp grazes my hand, buzzes

my face. I duck my head

& wave my arm, let go

the nozzle, turn off the hose

& walk away, annoyed & feeling

an itch, a mild pain — the sting

grows to a hard white pimple.

My hand throbs & swells.

I've seen a nest seething below

a porch stair. Today I’ll buy

wasp killer. Tomorrow at dawn

I’ll cover my head, spray the poison

& run.

         Why do this? Who am I?
Where do wasps belong?