The patience of stone, whose surface belies calm.
Neither warm nor cold, but unfeeling.

It digresses and turns inward, a vessel reversed
in course, in body, in function, the

outward notion separate but inclusive,
darkness expanding, the moist

earth crumbling yet holding its form:
acceptance of fate become

another’s mouth,
the means to closure and affirmation

driven not by lust nor fear
but through involuntary will.

Neither warm nor cold, but unfeeling.
The patience of stone.


“Tarantula” first appeared here in February 2015.

27 thoughts on “Tarantula

  1. I love this one. I like tarantulas and it seems this poem you connected at a very primal level, We don’t have much shared mind with them but I feel like I shared when reading your poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “the patience of stone” – i love that. such a great capture of the essence of these beautiful creatures. i have no fear of spiders or arachnids. tarantulas are most beautiful and misunderstood. often vilified. this is a wonderful piece of writing. extraordinarily so!

    Liked by 1 person

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