LatinosUSA

Late one evening, in the frustrated wallow

of stalled writing, a tiny spider appeared,

dropping leisurely on its protein thread

from the featureless ceiling above me.

–

There were no side-to-side adjustments

available to her, and at a foot a minute

she’d soon be perching on my nose,

and react to a warm, smelly mammal.

–

Spiders can’t talk, of course, but

I wondered what proto thoughts

were going through infinitesimal

ganglia as she approached me.

–

Silk excreting from gland pleasant

Warmer below, stink of not food

See tremolo shifts of huge blob

Flex stinger in case of bite

–

The miniscule poison dose was

unlikely to affect me at all

but the itinerant arachnid

needed to relocate elsewhere.

–

I plucked the thread from above,

carefully marched her to a corner

and gently set her down, hoping

my house guest would catch a flea.