Poem 43

I Killed A Spider
Scratching of chalk on board
Scribbles from my pen
Novels of the greatest
Philosophies of men.
And then…
This, tiniest of monsters,
The acuteness of life,
The pitter of his petite feet…
Fascinated I pause
And observe…
Fading of the world—away
Muted mumbles to my ears.
I watch a cell-sized being
Traverse the vastness of my page
In perfect awe…
His body teetering side to side
As I offer my finger as a vessel,
He declines.
I ponder his perspective
But I tire of his trek
Wishing to send him off anew
I slowly—
Flick him with my pen.
Oh Horror!—the round surface
The crushing Weight!
He was taken
By the colossal power of my thrust.
Dead he lingers a smear on my work…
Indifferent I return to the lecture.


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