WEB

The web stretches, and

a spider inches inevitably

toward its prey. Meaning

in the moment of a snatched pause

to close, and kill.

 

Tenuous strands wait taut

to trap us. We build walls

with stepping stones,

dug from the ground

between our mortared circles.

 

Tomorrow over turrets,

looks away and sees

the picture sketched:

it speaks unconsciously of

my comfortable deafness.

 

1986

 

The Longstone, #1 - May 1987