from windowsill to cracked corner of white walls
thinner than anything
more apparent than anything
glisten in the light cast by a december sun
be caught by the eyes of a remembering son of a son
fluid flowing light run up and down your lengths
with each sway of distant tree branch
each small breath that moves the blinds
when did the spider make your arc?
where has she gone?
i know you are there, little spider
i can feel you with my cheek pressed to the walls
do you spin my dreams above my head while i sleep?
was that you that spun in images of nakedness and family?
those fevered dreams that found me bare beneath my mother
and the smell of a dying grandfather who repulsed you when you were young.
was it you who impregnated me and made me feel whole for once
or was it you who covered my body with swelling sores that pulsed and flickered?
how much do you know about me, little spider?
and why the tiny strand?