More an observation than a poem, though it has been said that if you call something a poem, then it’s a poem, in this case aided perhaps by the allusion in the last line.

Where Wasps Come to Die?

For the second time this month,

a wasp has appeared on the office carpet

in more or less the same spot.

The diminutive intruder languished in its last throes,

antennae scarcely moving above the striped torso,

For a second time we try a little dissolved sugar

as an emergency revival technique, but to no avail.

Tentatively we escort the remains down stairs

on its last flight.