Bittersweet

I was looking through very old journal and found some poems I wrote many years ago. This one is from the summer of 2004, with new edits from today. 

 

 

Let me be weightless

falling away from myself,

and step across

the weeping arms of willows.

The ocean is bittersweet;

I’ll swim the depths in search of me.

 

The fullest moon,

smooth as a field of clay,

disguises the sharpest thorns

My skin is cracking

full of red rust.

I am

a drawing of sand

dispersing into the wind.

 

The petals of forget-me-nots die

to be forgotten.

The Spider

Outside the bedroom window, it comes and goes. I glance up from the bed and find it absent. I’m relieved for the moment. The first time, I thought perhaps it had fallen and might not find its way back, or it had simply decided to move on. Then it came back, and I knew that I would have to put up with a fat, 2-inch spider in my window for a while.

It will be gone for days, sometimes, but then one day I’ll settle onto my bed and the obligatory spider-check will find that the menace has returned. From the window in the hall I can see it from the other side. I can see its web, attached to the outer wall of the building. This is, clearly, a prime spot for a spiderweb, and it seems rather doubtful that it will leave of its own accord. There is no indication that the spider wants to come inside – the second it does, I’m going on the offense-as-the-best-defense. So, for now, it’s no more than the potential for a problem. So, for now, I’ll just live with it.

With night falling, the spider’s silhouette becomes less and less visible, until I can’t see it at all anymore. I don’t know if it will be there in the morning, or if it will be gone, giving me a bit of space and peace.