Even Spiders Die
But even halfcut spiders some
damn how bleed their papyrus way towards
the light to die, they later told me,
from behind an aching searchlamp
(onehundred watts, a blade
brilliant tearmuse for
my rapidwrinking visions)
during that eonslong debriefing
in our lonely hilltop geodesic keep
So how'd you fell, they said,
so far into shade, Sonnyboy
But I don't dare hear them
her hot tongues in my ear
her smoky breath is mine
Whose hand is this, they
spat, Whose dotted tees, Whose
crossing ayes -- these cramped
and spiraled hieroglyphics
denote a sanguine head
And I sat back in my
silence, smiled, and take
my timetable from the
membranous air
Copyright © Dort James | Year Posted 2011
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