Tuesday, September 20, 2016

The Burning Web

Sometimes sparks erupt from the overhead wires.
Sometimes it rains baby spiders. Sometimes you feel like
you'll die if you're touched, or if you're not touched.
Sometimes you stretch your arms to embrace the world
and they are instantly covered with all those baby spiders.

Sometimes the clouds cloak the meteor shower.
Sometimes the sparks seem more frightening
than magical. Sometimes I hide for days
in my apartment, listening. Sometimes all it takes
is one badly wired hot tub to burn down an entire forest.

Sometimes the train leaps the tracks
Sometimes the underground fires
smolder for years
Sometimes the eggs hatch
and the atmosphere crawls
Sometimes a strand of spider silk acts
as a fuse

Sometimes it feels like your skin is slipping off,
sometimes it feels like your eyeballs are being
pinched. Sometimes you swallow torch
after torch after torch. Sometimes we throw
match after match after match at the river
but it stubbornly refuses to catch fire.

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