Only after the car reaches 40 kilometers per hour
do I notice the spider dangling from the sideview mirror,
its legs akimbo and curled so I don't know if it's alive
until the car slows and the spider scurries up to cling
to the side of the car. I consider pulling it inside,
letting it run amok through the interior with the others
but I know this spider. I know even before the trauma,
this spider wouldn't hesitate to bite me, make me ill,
so I leave it alone, watching it flap in the wind
because I don't know what else I can do.
Megan ... cool. The poem really captures that feeling one gets when people around one are doing things you want to save them from but you know it's either futile to try or else you'll get bit in the bargain. Displacing those feelings into the small spider works well. Brava.
ReplyDelete