SEASON KAM

Elegy

On our last warm afternoon together, a wasp stings me in the garden.
A pinch so small, I’m more surprised than hurt
by its intrusion.

I lift my shirt and show everyone
the little square of skin, newly foreign to me.
A friend, after a few drinks, offers to pry the stinger out with a butter knife.
My children examine it as I stand before them naked,
five fingers tender on its anger.
“Bees die after they sting someone,”
my five-year old reassures himself.

If wasps could speak, I wish he would’ve just told me
he was scared.


The thing is that when the element of surprise wears off,
the venom continues to weep.
The more I scratched, the more the bruise refused to go,
migrating and unfamiliar.

There’s a scar now, at the place where we touched.
I wonder where he went after—my friend—
after he escaped by doing the one thing he knew to survive.

Season Kam (she/her) is a psychotherapist, writer, and lover of stories of all kinds. She was born in Singapore and now calls Toronto, Canada home. Season has been writing and creating her entire life, and believes our innate creativity connects us to possibility and transformation. Her work has been published in Imprint Magazine. When she isn't chasing her kids around, she can usually be found on a long walk.