Keeping Up Appearances
Jan 23 2025
Overnight
spider webs appear.
In the sheltering dark
precious silk
is spun into cobwebs
strung into kites,
lifelines
to rappel down and clamber up.
Dew drops
clinging to the strands
shimmer in the dawn,
transform the thin morning light
into precious little rainbows
contained neatly inside.
They’re tiny perfect spheres
and perfectly clear
but perfection doesn’t last,
and in the heat of the sun
are quickly gone;
from pearl necklace
to naked strand.
The spider waits,
poised on long delicate legs
exquisitely tuned
to any hint of quiver;
like a prodigy
fine-tuning her instrument
with an ear to the string.
Will stand stock still
for however long;
an ambush predator
lurking patiently
beside the watering hole.
Multiple eyes, the blackest black, look on,
unblinkingly fixed.
Their cold indifference is unnerving,
bizarre geometry
disconcertingly alien.
A gossamer trap
to entangle her prey
in its sticky silver threads,
her victim's thrashing
just making it worse;
an unfortunate fly,
entombed
in a silken sarcophagus .
Where it will eventually succumb;
a brittle husk
sucked dry.
But I know none of this
microcosmic drama
game of life and death.
I simply tear down the webs
whenever they appear
because what will people think?
That I'm neglectful
unclean
ungodly?
All that clever chemistry
and engineering artistry
annihilated
in a single swipe;
a hand
brusquely brushing it away,
a broom
stretching up on tiptoe
just high enough to snag.
One impatient man;
keeping up appearances,
keeping nature in her place.
There is probably probably too much going on in this poem. But this sort of microcosm and close observation really appeals to me. I guess the reader has to be willing to surrender to that sensibility: to just be patient, take her time, go along for the ride. T0 take pleasure in the detail. To just sit with it.
After all, reading poetry should not be like surfing the internet or scrolling a text. Life is already rushed enough!
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