I used to worry I’d see you in the flash of a sunset,
The gap in a bookcase, the sound of air blowing,
Cattails in the evening and dewy grass in the dawn
But I only ever spotted you in a spider. The click of a
Mouse, mechanical in my hand, the mouth of a web.
A bug being eaten, a fly sticking in light threads.
Your hand, an octagonal thing scrabbling
Lying in wait like a tricky arachnid
My eyes, the thing you’ll catch and wrap up nicely
I yearn for the sky to bloom in hydrangea pink
My brain unspooled on your pillow
Silent sun going up the stairs
As golden as the lips of a fleeting spring and as deadly
As the waiting bluffs. We dayge on the weekend and
Nobody drinks with us anymore. I am
offline again.
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