Wasps

Wasps, ha! What are they good for?
Absolutley nothing. Am I wrong?
They hover and bother around the jam
Drowning in beer and tyrannizing ice-cream;
Buzzing with menacing irritation
Approaching with waves of Doppler effect.

They invade picnics, like live grenades
causing otherwise mild-manner folk to shriek and flap
Batting the striped terror into the faces of
Friends and loved ones – save yourselves!
A mate used to trap them in old coke cans
And when they were dizzy with sugar,
He pulled off their wings – dicing with death.
Iain Banks had the right idea.

We shall fight them on the beaches;
We shall fight in the fields and on the streets.
At least bees are useful making honey –
They even sound funny as they bumble their way
Through hives and combs – neat and furry
With nectar encrusted feet.
And they only sting once.

I once asked my father why wasps existed.
With typical trauma-inducing paternal reasoning
He replied, ‘Well, why do you exist?’
I’m still not sure. What am I good for?