BRYAN CURT KOSTORS | The Abandoned Hive
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The Abandoned Hive is a three-movement setting of poetry by Michelle Brittan.




On Becoming a Statue


The house is no longer

a shelter. The air inside is the same


as the air outside. I have no use

for walls, only windows.


My breath turns

into moss, my eyes follow a leaf



pulling itself along the sidewalk.

Perhaps the wind will lead it



under the tire of a car.
Perhaps it will only absorb


the rain and the coming night.
I don’t believe


the leaf will settle below the arch
of my foot. I don’t believe


I’m a refuge to anyone.
I don’t notice the moment


the leaf is gone, because I’m trying
to remember the sun’s heat


I held in the stone
of my body. At night,


I’m the same color as the moon.


The Abandoned Hive


The bees are gone but the walls

in summer drip honey,


the abandoned hive

waking in heat. In a dream I hear


the drone, the plaster teaming,

and the floor beneath lifts into flight.


On Waking When You’re Already Leaving


The slide of the bolt and lock, fingers

snapped at the end of a spell – your body


walking to the car under the inscrutable

graffiti of the stars – invisible garland


of your green bar of soap still

hanging aromatic in the dim hallway


outside the shower – the steam retreating

to the mirror’s oval border, my face


appearing after yours in the cleared

center – the tiny light


on the coffee pot burning at the back

of the kitchen, a pinhole in the nights last


darkness – the pan you cooked eggs in,

the filigree of yellow along the edge


in a ring, lifted out whole like a crown.


Solo soprano, soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, piano

This work is for