May 20

comment 1
poetry

To wound the heart is to create it
 
 
I felt it flit across
the back of my hand

before I saw it
a fleeting shadow

a large spider
already gone

before the stomach drop
the untaught unease

I saw another stationed
on the orchid’s leathery leaf

another where the garden
abuts the foundation

another tracing the fall line
of the shower

I leave them alone now
some say age

make you less tolerant
but it is softening me like a blow—

house spiders
this as much their home as mine

and there are worse things
that linger unseen in the dark

1 Comment

  1. Wow, I really enjoyed this. At first, I was caught by the topic, as a lover of all things with numerous legs, then by the structure, and finally, the innocuous, but rather dark, final verse. 💙

    Liked by 1 person

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