3/26/2025

Spider webs catch our eye like so many flies, and we think of silk and thread. We think of the makings of our places of respite. Beds are secure, warm, and inviting. The spider lives in this spindly makeup: it’s more home to her than it is a trap. But sometimes in the forgotten corners of your bathroom there lies only the tatters of the web that once was. And eight lanky legs curled upward to meet in a pyramid transport me. I see sweat soaked sheets, sallow skin, and eyes sunken, deep-set to where you can’t place the light in them. And I’m sorry.