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Judson Crews
Denial
to mitigate the
affirmations
A discarded
fence post
sun beaten
Rejected
of earth
piss ants
Nest in
its shattered
bowels
A spider
has stitched
an erratic
Web of denial
She has work to do, establishing
Her anchor threads, her frame threads,
Even her bridge thread and all her radii,
Hub to be ready by dawn, herself resting --
All-powerful, so far as any lacewing can
See. Seeking out the ripest berries, she
Works not to eat drupelets, but entirely to
Offer them as bait to fruit flies and their ilk.
Right away along comes another
Killer, a ladybird beetle, seeking the berries
Too, and for the same reason. He's caught,
Offers resistance, is overwhelmed, rolled up,
Done. Whatever comes in, if protein, her
Ovum will accept. Death it is brings life.
The light is like a spider.
It crawls over the water.
It crawls over the edges of the snow.
It crawls under your eyelids
And spreads its webs there--
Its two webs.
The webs of your eyes
Are fastened
To the flesh and bones of you
As to rafters or grass.
There are filaments of your eyes
On the surface of the water
And in the edges of the snow.
I spin my golden web in the sun:
The cherries tremble, the light is done.
A sudden wind sweeps over the bay,
And carries my golden web away!
Gnats and an ant have gnawed your nimble bones —
You who could spring and sprawl on your own thread
Down half the meadow. Under tiny stones
The ant has stored your essence. You are dead.
You stitched the air with level darts : the sun
Slid on your silvers. Now they slant oblique
Like strokes of rain. . . .
Your neighbors have begun
To chew the cud of festoons. From the cheek
Of this, your hairy enemy, dangles one
Loop of his glee to tease your skeleton.
Wasps sting the grapes still, carry spider-spoil
In twisted torment past your web and on
Where their crude honey hangs in muddy cones.
The ants are hurried. One huge bee intones.
The pond is wrinkled with a velvet oil