Saint Arachnid

You stand across from me,

yet I cannot see your

eyes.

Marble eyes

of almost millions,

which way do you

look?

You rub your hands

together

and wash your face.

Your long, petite limbs,

weapon of destruction,

weapon of protection,

feed the

family

growing in your

orbicular abdomen.

You’re alone now.

But you won't be for

split second

before your young

catch the wind

and ride on the tails

of their own solitary existence.

The sun catches

a drop of dew,

shimmering

on your web,

and I see your eyes.

I know your loneliness.

I know you.