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Matthew Olzmann


We know gears are supposed to turn,

but we forget their teeth, that to pull

they must bite into another.  


Last month, the workers at the axle factory

went on strike. Without the axle,

there is no car.  Without the carloads


of workers at noon, the sandwich shop

down the block shuts its doors,

kills its lights. Behind the sandwich shop,


a dumpster filled with bees.  

My wife is allergic to the stinger.

Lodged in human skin, the barb is lost


to the bee. The bee then dies.  

And if enough of them fail again

to find the hive, that dies as well.    

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