Thursday, March 24, 2011

The Spider

My hand gripped the spray can
Marching through Ontarian trees
Brothers and father in a band
Clearing a path with machetes
I was too little to be trusted
So sprayed red on the slashed bark
Until I felt my fingers brushed
And turned the can around to remark
The spider mirroring my hand
Green brown eyes peering at one another
I screamed and dropped the can
And ran to my oldest brother

I sat on the tatami mats
At night playing Nintendo
Listening to the wail of cats
Reaching their crescendo
When I opened my closet
To get a different game
Eight green eyes shone an instant
So with a broom I bludgeoned him
Later the crippled handlike form
Scrabbled towards me across the tatami
My fear was gone like snow in June
I felt only remorse and pity

This is why I will always fear the spider
But this is why I will never kill another

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