Part I: The Orchard Spider
Every second a second of silk—
(I pour myself from myself
I AM the hand on the handle &
I AM also the handle
the headlong trajectory the plash)
Weaving is easy this way
this way when you are the weaver
& the Thing being weaved
No needle no eye to thread no thread
just the umbilical-mouth breathing out silk
No matter if the orb gets torn
ransacked by Sun Bird or storm I weave in my sleep
& sleep in the weave
weave heavy sleep into a fly
Come breakage come labor
the labor is dulcet the labor is citrine
the labor is lapis the labor is me
Part II: The Orchard Spider & the Parasitic Grub
I came out of myself crooked today some shadow some
needling thing threaded my eyes
a cause for hunger
Still I remember that first thread in the tusset grass
then ballooned up
Small thing you are a heavy passenger
This is how I weave you might as well see
since you are here now
always here now
soft heavy thing with a song in my brain
You are something I lost dropped in my sleep
slipped from my web now come back to rejoin?
I see you are not going & are growing
so I might as well love you come
come closer still all the way you who have not blown in
but have come from my rib my head
come back into me I have saved my strength for you
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 2.
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