---

This will be your last house,
the hill that you die on.
You feel most at home
building a fort upon my grave.

You grieved for me, briefly,
kept my prayers in your pocket
and erected a honeycomb
upon my grave.

Who’s the queen bee?
Nobody, I guess.
You yield nothing but the yolk
of my angry spirit.

They told legends about me,
but you didn’t listen or care
I will haunt you and your entrails
because you’re living upon my grave.

---

Anastasia Jill (she/they) is a queer writer living in the Southeast United States. She has been nominated for Best American Short Stories, Best of the Net, and several other honors. Her work has been featured with Poets.org, Pithead Chapel, apt, Minola Review, Broken Pencil, and more.