Araneus Trifolium

Then again next Summer –
next wet, fat, loud Summer,
I may find on a spider’s loom,
the fly that tormented the window
all through Winter, Spring,
released in the first airing –
when mud and manure
wafted like mutton, like cabbage,
like all the bitter greens and old meats
that stink a house locked
against the weathers.

She’s the yellow of melons –
all hunger and fang,
braced on a dragline,
patient for a giving hand
that lifts a sash in Spring.
She is and ever larger I hope
she spins the whole world silken,
spins the world sticky as sleep,
sticky as steel that takes
all torment – all torment
pounded on a pane
and wraps it there,
between new green woods.

Image: Tamas Kolossa on Unsplash

2 Thoughts

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