Too Many Legs
I have figured out my arachnophobia,
it’s not the multiple eyes
or the seen or imagined hairiness of the body,
or that torso-less squishy bag.
Apart from we bipedal life-forms
four legs, one on each corner,
seems about right.
Eight is a nightmare.
I try to imagine a Koala Bear with eight legs,
or a Rhinoceros
or, heaven forbid, a crocodile.
Somehow nature got drunk on its own ripe berries,
somehow, 8 became its own demented trick
played upon we giants.
We instinctively leap away from that ancient stillness,
a crouching threat that at any moment
could burst into that fast stiff shuffle.
We watch dismayed as it
carries its own vulnerable package of horror
on all those ratcheted hoists and cranes
itself fearful even to be seen.
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