issue 5
// poetry
Bee Sting
by Rachel Beachy
When I take out the trash, a bee stings my
reaching hand and a flower grows there.
Each finger turns spring-soft and fragile.
I used to count love this way:
yes or no. How old was I the first time
I looked to the world to tell me what I deserve?
How often have I left love
up to chance?
Now I want to take every petal
I have ever plucked and toss it down
the aisle of a wedding to this life –
the one where I walk myself
end to end. Hold a bouquet made
of my own hands. Call myself honey.
Let hurt be the place
where I begin again.
about the author // Rachel Beachy
| Rachel Beachy (she/her) is the author of Tiny Universe. Her poetry has also appeared or is forthcoming in HAD, Her View From Home, Does It Have Pockets, Mulberry Literary, ONE ART, Rust & Moth, Sky Island Journal, Thread, Wildscape. and others. She was nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology 2025 and shortlisted for the Central Avenue Poetry Prize 2026. She lives in Kentucky with her husband and children. |
Instagram: @rachelbeachywrites
wildscape. literary journal 