mechanical bees i didn't notice the change. that summer was full of wilted mouths & flowers forgetting their old languages. the mailbox became a doll's head. our fingers parched, we soaked hands in yogurt. walking out to the old pasture we saw a cow catch fire. tried, desperately to dose the animal in water. it was too late. already there was crystal underneath. they tell us there are solutions in the works. we recieve a flyer on how to exhale less. how to plant mangroves in our toilets. we do what we can. re-use the plastic bags to carry thimbles down from the attic when it's dusk & time to take precautions. it was you, my love, who noticed the bees. your mother was a bee keeper. often you would invite the insects to stand on the length of your finger & one day they stopped accepting your gesture. wild & terrified you ran into the mouth of the world. you ask the bees where they were keeping their ghosts. the machines worked brainless. drone technology touching the faces of plum tree blossoms. i told you not to but you killed one just to see the wires. held it up to me & said "this is not a bee." what more could i have done? i told you this is what we have to do. this is what is left. you shook your head. wept before scattering the machine bee debris in the yard. truth be told i pretend i never saw it. i pretend the bees are alive. from a distance they hum all the same. rise from white flower to bud. legs kissed with yellow pollen.