Finding a wasps nest in my Aunt's h

I found it nestled in the corner
of a wintering cupboard, a paper
coral made out of regurgitated
wood pulp and last month's news.

The wasps hummed their Talmud
as I slept that night, every word
creeping through the floorboards
into my head.

But they wouldn't be there tomorrow.
The hooded scarecrows would flood
their home with mustard gas, under
an auspice of peace,

falling as if it were a biblical scene.
But there would be no one to sweep them
up and bury them as the sky mourned.