Margaret F. Browne

To build a wasp’s nest

     1.

A wasp builds her nest 
from paper—builds paper 
from wood in the mouth, 
wood from the world she gathers 
upon her tongue and chews
world into wafer into what 

she can offer back to the world—
a nest and the eggs she lays 
within it.

     2.

She strips 
wood and fiber from fences, 
eaves & wicker
chairs
long dead remnants of 
a life not to long 
for   what

drifts away like paper 
boats water-logged   wasp gathers 
the wet shreds   molds a hollow to slip 
away to leaving only   a hard hum 
that dwindles   as it surrounds

     3.

a wasp queen in winter    sleeping 
within a womb of wood    wakes 
with warmer weather, 
begins 
building what is    hum-heavy 
and frightening, sculptural 
and a home   to live by the seasons 
is to make what will be      unmade    
sounds of what is hidden    in me   
what this body of wood 
can harbor

     4.

I build my nest from paper
build paper from 
the world I gather 
upon my tongue, chew world into
wafer into word into what I can offer 
back to the world—

     5.

Look within 
my mouth  dark round reckoning 
before knowing red, before knowing 
slit before parting it opens onto 
womb & world & I begin 

in opening   out 
fly my wasps   they open
their wings  lace the sky 
Pollinate the flowers   Devour 
the compost rot where once 
bloomed a yellow flower   They gather 
the world & return it   Return and gather 
where I sit   quiet with a patient tongue 
I open & exhale   Watch them spread
across the distance  reborn each time
I open my mouth

Margaret F. Browne is a poet and writer living in Denver, Colorado. Originally from Texas, she received her MFA from Colorado State University, where she was an associate editor for Colorado Review, the 2018 winner of Graduate Student Showcase, and a 2019 AWP Intro Award Nominee. This is her debut publication.