how the wasps in my stomach sing

[purple_and_red]

in buzzes for their dishevelled queen,
the larval lady, all fat and white,
puckered like a painful mouth sore.
in the dark my sisters snore
they breathe in light minced breaths
i lie like christ on lead-lined pipes
to cringe at their warm wet whispers.



'frigid ingrid frog' by myself