The Poet’s Bedroom Reimagined

by Daniel Dyal

Five hundred bees
and a sac of spider eggs
nestled against the door frame.

When I die, harvest the honey
from my ribcage, probe my tongue
for poison. You can make a rope

out of my limbs and escape.
Tuck them into my body and
listen for the bells shimmering

the air silver. Forget cleansing
my room. Burn down the whole
house. Watch as the spiders

skitter from every sharp angle. A riot 
of bees roaring like flames. My ghost 
no longer huddles in the window.

Daniel Dyal is a poet from Fayetteville, WV. His hobbies include watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, crocheting, and retelling the same story multiple times.