Monday, November 22, 2010

About Dang Time for a Spider's Appearance

A Spider Came To Me In The Night

     She tickled my neck, she tickled my sleep, in my loose cotton blanket I felt in my sleep that stroke on my neck, the soft feathered poke, the slim wavered frond, the hand of the spider—in my sleep, in dream, I knew her, and smiled. But waking I vaulted straight up on the bed, waking I switched on every light in the room. I shook my shirt, my hands whisked like brooms, I pummeled the blanket, slapped and pulled the sad sheets of the bed. Awake I searched for the intruding spider. And in the bed? Nothing. In the mess of my hair, the spare fur of my skin, nothing. I left the lights to blaze. In the morning, in the mirror, there was a bite on my neck. A red patch, a raspberry, a fresh birth mark.

I’ve been calling it a love bite.

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