A Spider's Song

It takes a special
kind of old song to draw
my inner child into the open.

It’s one playing long
cons with paper cranes
and Christmas mornings-

built for the few
fathers call and fewer they
leave absolved.

It takes an ancient
sort of ballad to level with
the malice of unrequited plans,

single poems composed
to span eons
and eras,
long enough to erase
the fear of death running
deep within
their mortal hosts.

It takes a love song of
equal caliber- an
emotional Excalibur- to
precisely word why I’ll
never turn my head
in its true direction
again,

responding to only
tricks of light and whispers
from the recent dead.

And I wonder,
ultimately,
what those classics dread

(us or them)-

the skipping of a
thousandth listen or
burdens of being the

only gem I see in
an emerald
sense.

Like a housefly that’s
survived a spiderweb,
those old-time
songs look for something to
finally swat them down.

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4 thoughts on “A Spider's Song

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