You might not recognize
my hand lines complicated
as a newly-spun web
containing the wide Pacific
waves carved in laughing faces
mouths whose insides hold
my voice but trust me
the pen writing this story
you used to know like those
spiders orange as pumpkins
whose triangle noses somehow
always broke rotting flesh
softening folding in upon itself
you know who I am companion
on your lifelong walk beside
the blue bay round and firm
as a plum straining against its
own skin roots sunk deep
into the damp northern soil
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Pumpkin spider, Araneus trifolium [harmless to humans]
and its web with fog droplets, San Francisco.
Brocken Inaglory/Wikimedia Commons
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