I see the spider before I enter the shower
and drag my toes toward it to herd it
into the corner, behind the shampoo bottle
where it should stay dry and safe enough.
But a few minutes later, I see it begin
to drift toward the drain, its body inverted,
its legs sticking up in stiff angles and lines.
I use the cap to my razor as a life raft, a dam,
and a spatula, but I can tell its already too late
and the little jumping spider has drowned.
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