written By
A queen bee switched her daughter’s diet to honey and pollen, withholding
the royal jelly. She feared her hive had a second queen.
The queen’s five eyes scoured her daughter’s cell, kept it light so nothing was
hidden. The larva was punished for any signs of independence.
An untended larvae will shrivel. Forced to become a worker, she gave the
queen pre-digested news and praise but felt sick.
The queen buzzed rage at her daughter’s failures, took credit for successes.
The daughter owned nothing. She dieted in preparation to fly.
In a far city, the daughter found a room with a bed, a bookcase, a cupboard
and desk. Band posters darkened the room’s walls.
Record boxes and books overspilled the shelves. The daughter focused her
listening to songs she could dream dance routines for.
A rainbow messaged: there are flowers here. In moonlight, the daughter grew
and tested her wings. She didn’t have to be the queen to live.
