A long time ago, we roasted bees on a stick as treats for children's birthday parties. No one remembers what happened to move us from the fields to the city, but it was something like a long low rumble in the night.

In the fields, we didn't sneak our trash into other people's bins. We dug a big hole and dumped everything into that. Sometimes we would sprinkle dirt atop it and hum a little song, maybe to bless it, maybe to distract ourselves, maybe just to hear our voices humming little songs. Other times we heaved the stuff in and told the children ominous tales about bad children. Don't get too close to the bees near the trash, we told them. We'll know if you do.

In the city we live nestled beneath a freeway's onramp. We search for wings and collect waste until trash day, then toss it all in the bins outside the apartment buildings. The buildings are big, unyielding rectangles, nothing like the green forgiveness of fields.

Here we are waiting for the bees to bless us. So far we have found the following: fly, dragonfly, mosquito, ant.


Jen Gann's work has appeared or will in PANK, elimae, SmokeLong Quarterly, and others. She lives in San Francisco and is online at:
© Gigantic. All rights reserved
website by Joanna Neborsky . code by Daniel Carvalho