A Session of Therapy

When it comes to incinerating
ants with a magnifying glass
or capturing bees bare-handed
to sequester in old jam jars
filled with honeysuckle, breathing holes
punched by nail through their tin lids,
I’m passed master, though these minor
feats lie indistinct in the past.
The cruelty I practice now
begins with my own self, whom
I treat more like a bee than an ant.