High Groves Estate Villa, Old Epidaurus

for Andrew and Rebecca

Wasps besieged the gentle company,
Dive-bombing the cheese board, troubling
Our gestures, walking the thin rims of gin-
And-tonic glasses. Waving them away
The host was stung. Was it a kind of sin

To clear the air? We spoke of pollinators,
The wasp-death at the heart of purple figs.
Poison-squeamish, I proposed a trap,
Scissored off the top of a plastic bottle,
Inverted it inside the base, no cap,

And glugged a sugary liquid through the funnel
To lure them to the bottom: quinine-laced
Tonic water, the dregs of orange-ade.
The descent is broad and easy down the tunnel,
...