But lacking the architecture
I could not walk like a spider do,
hung there, soft-bodied below
the buttress of her legs and
hydrostatic. Nor could I pull silk
from my ass and hurl myself
into the wind. I tried but ended
the process crocodilian, low
mouthed and leathered, but
lacking the architecture to lunge
from the swamp and take what is
mine or isn’t. Instead, I rose,
looked about for wings or
some other apparatus with which
to propel myself from this failing
body.
Image: Gabriel Manlake on Unsplash
Sweet and Bitter Greens 