by Robert Schechter

“I don’t envy the editors about to get an onslaught of . . . bees in eyes living on tears poems.”
—A.E. Stallings on Twitter

There’s a bee in my eye.
It makes me good money.
I bottle my teardrops
and sell them as honey.

There’s a bee in my eye.
My troubles are many.
My retina’s tickled
by twitching antennae.

There’s a bee in my eye.
There may be a dozen.
And that explains why
my cornea’s buzzin’.

There’s a bee in my eye.
If I had a scruple
I’d have them evict
the bee from my pupil.

There’s a bee in my eye,
and I say, “Doggone it!
This bee in my eye
is a bee in my bonnet!”