A House Divided

My fear has twenty paces,
headphones, firmly tucked,
eyelids, tightly shut: each step
smaller, more tentative
—my feet lose will.


                        The spider
house was empty; I didn’t
leave a note.  What use are
such feelers, traveling far
from home?


                  Grow myself a
web, or trust.  My fear has
twenty
paces. I count thirty
for her.

 

 

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