Honeybees, they’re dying—and no one can figure out why or explain how—so I’ve no choice but to turn my ears into sweet clover blossoms, to beg the bees to come and pollinate my earlobes, to use my skull as their beehive and my brain as their honeycomb so they can hurry up and figure out how to survive. I will consider this a favor repaid so that next time I squeeze honey into my morning tea, their incessant buzzing for mercy will no longer distress me.

Bio: Kayla Pongrac