Wasp

Nobody loves Wasp.
He lives in fear.
His body, painted like a warning sign,
Incites prejudice and hatred.

His mandibles make kissing Mrs. Wasp
A sad impossibility.
His sting makes anything more intimate
A fatality.

It’s no surprise then that he searches out
A little something sweet to comfort-eat,
Or a little tipple
To drown his sorrows, or just drown in.

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