22/ Itsy-Bitsy Spiders

I wrote this on the fly today, typed directly into this post, inspired by . . . well, you'll see.


Itsy-Bitsy Spiders

My desk faces a rough-hewn hemlock wall;
matching beams stripe the ceiling.
The wood is dark, making it impossible
to see where the infinitesimal spiderlings
come from—the ones that appear
as the faintest grey dots on my monitors.

The dots move in that wonderfully unique
way spiders have, making them instantly
recognizable. They appear every summer,
trusting me not to cover them with the stacks
of papers that grow like stalagmites around
my keyboard. More likely they don't think
about me at all, but I think about them.

I think about their invisible nest on the ceiling,
how many siblings share the egg case(s),
what kind of spiders they might be, and where
their mother is hanging out. I try not to think
about the ones I don't see on my monitors—
the risk-taking ones that almost certainly land
every summer, weighing nothing, in my hair.