Annie K

Ivy Symbolizes Eternity

On a walk to the small local grocery store, I found a bee dying on the sidewalk
You told me to leave it—the cement was hot—running up the soles of my shoe into my skin

And a person passed by, giving us a wide berth—I suppose we could look to be on the verge of a fight–spaced out by nothing

I looked past your expression of impatience—at the far corner of the block where a restaurant stood—we’ve eaten there before—and one time a waitress gave me her pen because I liked it

There are no dried crushed leaves nearby—it’s still too summer, the sky empty of clouds I pull up ivy instead—curled around the stone steps of the brownstone we’re passing—and use it to scoop up the bee

Your protest is a noise—a short thing that dies in your throat as another person passes us by–-and watches me set the bee down at the base of a tree away from the sidewalk

They deserve a quiet death—wings crushed, legs twitching, I have no words to offer as it lays on its ivy coffin

I turn back to you slowly—to the blinding way the sun fills the whole block before shining on the strip of shops before us—I don’t remember what errand we’re supposed to be doing

And it feels for a moment disarming—reminding myself that I need to be wearing some second skin that wasn’t my own as my mouth twisted to say words I wouldn’t use—

You didn’t have to do that, you say, repeat actually—-you didn’t have to do that.
But I have been that bee—and I have been waiting, waiting on the sidewalk for the pity in your eyes to transform into action

Annie K is the author of the play It Looks Like This, the Kennedy Center Region 3 winner 2021. She was also the recipient of the Gwen Frostic Playwright Award. She currently teaches in the Writing Studies Program at The American University in Washington D.C.