Matins: Gregor Mendel and the Bees

Slowed by smoke, they slump

from the hive,

benign from the hive they slump,

Father of thorax and wing,

Father of light, they light

on my arm, make light

of my arm, tapering, golden,

Father of darkness receding,

they make from my arm

a candle, a flame, they candle

my arm with backcast

light, affixing the self

to the shell.