Sitting by a window on the bus
I'm aware of a wasp scuttling sideways
Trying to fly out through the invisible barrier
I grab a piece of clothing from my bag
And hit him
He disappears, I jump up and move seats
In case he's fallen near me
I don't see him - then I spot him
Crawling around the floor
His wings still, he stops
His little antennae wobble up and down
Then I'm stung
By the violence of what I've done
What harm was he? Because of how
He looked, what others like him
Are known for doing, I decided to hit him first
Bend his wings, bruise his legs
Knock him to the floor, in a place
Where he'll probably never escape
All so he wouldn't sting me
I made his life hell so that
I didn't have to see him
Or have him near me
It was arbitrary, you see a wasp
Wasps sting you, so the only way to be safe
Is to kill them
As he catches his breath I mull
What would be the humane thing?
Squash him? Scoop him up
To hurl him out, down two storeys
At thirty miles per hour?
I had not killed him
But I had almost certainly
Condemned him to death
Almost
Because he swishes and buzzes back up
Against the window, cautiously
Runs his spindly legs over the lip
Of the open part, and I thought then
Would he appreciate my snapping it shut
So at least he's outside in his own world again
But I didn't, I watch
As he crawls behind the handle
And as the bus rumbles closer to home
I see him flicker around like he had done
Before I hit him
Since he seems strong enough I feel
Now would be a good time
To help him on his way
Make use of genuine
Contrition
But here's my stop
I rise to get off, and he sinks somewhere
Between the seats, and no doubt thinks
'I survived you'
I leave him on that bus, hopefully
In time he might be strong enough
To forgive me.
@nepion_boreas17
