POETRY
when love lost is remembrance
I hold a memory of a spider in my hand
I ask, is the spider alive
is the spider a shape of my mind
and the half of me not with you
cannot see the lion from the cage
cannot pull the spider but the web
is my memory a spider
is spider a memory of my hand
I see you in my eyes telling me
spiders build webs of glass thread
I take this for my own day of
sitting on my fingers in the grass
I hold the spider of my thumb
spider is a memory of my hand
my arm is a spider
her twin, the spider
what you say
and what you said
will shape my memory
when love lost is remembrance
I see you climbing in the diamonds
there are still spiders of stories you told me
my body is glass
I pull the spider from the web
I sit listening to the spiders in the grass
by Tom Blood