The Bee Man

 

The bee man sits by his stove drinking sweet coffee

from a mug with ‘Stud” written on the front

He brought the stove from Talia

near the village in Turkey where he grew up

where he has olive groves

and drove it back to Camberwell

in the boot of his Toyota

stuffed in alongside bottles of olive oil

so green they look like Absinthe

that foul smelling drink

they used to serve in the French

before it closed down

on the exact day when the manager tripped

and threw soup over a large

and very drunk food critic

who turned and punched him in the face

 

The bee man sits by his stove on the allotment

and plays backgammon on Tuesdays

with the Kurdish man

who lives in the new flats on the corner

The Kurdish man complains he can hear his neighbour

tapping her teaspoon against her teacup in the mornings

One afternoon the bees swarmed

into the pear tree

a fevered frenzy of buzzing

The bee man shouted for the Kurdish man to get into the shed

as aftershave makes bees angry

And an angry bee down your shirt is the last thing you need

on a Tuesday afternoon

 

The bee man says you must talk to your bees

you must whisper them your secrets and sing to them

This makes the honey sweet and makes your wife love you

The bee man’s wife laughs and says she loves him anyway

even though he has never washed up

and can’t cook

The bee man says if someone dies

You must tell the bees

If you don’t  their souls will get stuck

somewhere between here and there

 

The bee man says he once saw a ghost

Standing by the runner beans

On a shadowy summers evening

When the light was thick and gold

He asked the bees to get it to come back

So I could see it too

But it never did.