October wasps

they're sitting ducks

these late season wasps

blown in through office ducts

they buzz listlessly 

on my windowsills

wander the bright panes

hunker idly for days.

I let them be, usually,

watch them wallow feebly

through these final days

keeping me beleaguered company

even their color less vibrant

than their summer peak

when they hover menacingly

around park picnics

always flitting out of reach

deftly dodging the electrified swatter

the metal meshed tennis racket

bought just to target them...

no, by this late in the year

the lust for revenge has cooled

and I feel little need to put an end

to a life now past its threatening prime

and so obviously nearing

a lethargic, peaceable conclusion.

building boxes

feed the clear band of tape into the tape gun

mind the jagged spikes of the cutting edge

stand the empty shell on end, bottom side up

fold down flaps (whispering raspily against inside walls)

press the gun against the side

let the tape find its hold

pull against its gentle tug, up to

the upside-down bottom

lay it smooth along the seam between flaps

bridging the gap, forming a new surface

a new base, sturdy, that won't give out

won't open underneath and drop its load

with a bewildering crash into the unknown below

the gun growls, but not in protest, 

readily reeling out adhesive

down the opposite side

now to apply the teeth, push them against the taut line

straight as you can

smoothing down the final tail

then lift, flip, drop the box

bottom side down

an upside-down drum

an empty room

four thin walls and a floor

ready to fill with whatever cannot be left behind.