Spider
Although traces of silk remain,
I’ve not seen my spider confidant in days.
She’d often greet me at the printer’s table,
and once, only inches away, admonished me
from a manila folder containing drafts.
I do not speak the language of spiders,
but surely some ideas fall beyond words,
and our conversations, though one-sided
at both ends, offered consistency
in companionship. I wonder if she’s migrated
to another backyard shack, perhaps an artist’s
studio or gardener’s shed, one with better
opportunities in prey selection or talk. Even
seeing each other daily, we’ve led such separate lives.
* * *
“Spider” was published in January 202, in Issue 17 of Panoply. Many thanks to editors Andrea, Jeff and Ryn for including this piece, and for supporting my work over the past five years. I am truly grateful.
O at the Edges 
What a lovely poem! I’m very fond of spiders, and those little jumping spiders seem chock full of personality. The way they move, they remind me of chipmunks.
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Thank you! I love those little jumping spiders!
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Our friendly spiders are indeed the landlords of their universe …
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They’re all interesting, but I’m glad we don’t have any of the large scary ones in my neck of the woods.
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It’s the little scary ones you have to watch out for Robert 🕷
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Or even the ones that aren’t scary, I suppose.
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