Spider

spider

by Jared Simmonds

I have scaled the lengths of our two atmospheres

to watch without being watched

this noble drama

(at the maraca of your scuttling legs,

sinewy fibres unravel like a staff

for the dead and living

to etch their notes upon;

adorned in ceremonial ink,

you consider the embalmment

of the ritual sacrifice,

and resign to knowledge

in place of theory;

fierce and patient,

a silent Olivier;

never has a role

been so misinterpreted)

whispering of how we are born

wiser

than we become.