“Spider Bite”

21 Feb

“Spider Bite”

It reminded me of my boyhood

in the Pacific Northwest,

that sense of the laundress—

which reminded me of my boyhood

in Los Angeles,

that sense of the boundless—

and I don’t care what the doctors say

when your mother paints a snowy picture

on your bedroom wall,

or we killed a mighty falcon

in our boyhood reverie,

or the spider bite:

a mountain of moles;

the fluid drips through your system

from its hairy jaws

mandibles wash up on the shore

of your spooned skeletons

relaxing in a beauty box,

or betray the hoax to a lavender ghost

he stops by the mirror sometimes

as if to redirect ancient wizards:

ghouls in their bird mobiles

a fair thorn away from here

pinpricked by your favorite goddess.

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