She runs through the forest of my hands
the lucky* jerker; I see her pick up her legs
as she goes with her little aversions
persnickety, finicky walk.
Let me look at your five eyes close.
Your big sorority have crawled
over my open mouth, tent-sleeping
and been on their way, my sleeping cells
tuning in to their tinies,
minded as they forage.
OK - across the room and in the bath,
it's the postcard and glass; and go
annoy the neighbours, please.
..........................
The little spiders we were told by tradition to call 'money-spiders' and they were lucky. Of course I knew it was a nod and a wink knowledge but loved to conceive they were. NB:- We dont have really poisonous biting spiders in UK. I believe there are Northern Widow poisonous spiders in Canada.
YOU ARE READING
Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
