TY - JOUR
AU - Runciman, Lex
AB - 242 ISLE Warily, rolled magazine in hand, I am watching a death on Halloween, a fat wasp that a steady stream of warm air from my window has called—temperature like a siren promising a winter's sweet repose, a waking into April, distant sunshine. In this, it joins box elder bugs, the small knot of ladybugs where garage ceiling and wall join. Everything wants in; the earth's mosaic—soil of nematodes, surface of slugs, water of ouzels, air of gnats, everything wants to prolong itself. So the wasp circles. Investigates the slats of Venetian blinds, the narrow canyons between upright books. It cannot understand my lemon ginger tea. If I look hard enough I imagine seeing the actual motions of its blurred wings, the buzz as it hovers, exploring fluorescents. I no longer have the heart to swat at it. What sound do red leaves flaming make, the brown leaves unfallen? Welcome all. More than one clock ticks. 
TI - Wasp
JF - ISLE: Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment
DO - 10.1093/isle/9.1.242
DA - 2002-01-01
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/wasp-jp8wjedHrv
SP - 242
EP - 242
VL - 9
IS - 1
DP - DeepDyve
ER -