I crushed the old paper wasp nest in my hand
this evening flattened its perfect hexagons

The wasps abandoned it under the eave
after their season passed
so many years ago

but I thought to save it
and set it on my mantle
so I could admire its perfect lines
geometric combs
delicate petiole

preserve
a timeless reminder of

nature’s perfect design

until

my season passed
and time came for me
crow’s feet sloppily crisscrossing my temples
wrinkles dripping down my cheeks
lines plowed into my brow like row crops

nature’s perfect design my ass

you think I’m gonna let these wasps
see their pretty preserved
while I transform into an old duffel bag
jammed into an older duffel bag?