Autobiographical Poem (composed 2011)

By | April 28, 2013

Tegenaria Agrestis

In night-time I was rush face-first in the spider web.
During one hour my face felt with the spiderwebs still,
and after the spider would horrify myself each time.
Not any variety the bugs, only spiders. (And earwhigs.)
But revulsion and to fascinate are the same things,
but just depending how you felt on that emotion.
Fascinating also is a good way for feeling not as vulnerable.
So I’ve adopted the pet spider.
We found sometimes the spiders like Max,
who scuttle extremely quick,
have a sickly brown and about the size of a nickel,
all in the house, tucked in mat webs
in such as the basement crannies of stairs or niches.
A few ones turn up dead over near
the door to down in the basement.
I fed what things I can catch, like the ants, to Max.
I have shown classmates Max, and also friends.
I was upset with them when classmates
insisted spiders were an insect.
I learned spiders may breathe especially beautiful
since some of them can have booklungs.
I wept when Max was on his back
while his legs curl all inside like the newborn.
A scientist in the newspaper published his article then.
Max was called the hobo spider.
If you break a whitish and round egg sac
of hobo spiders in half,
you will watch the eggs that could bounce
incredibly high up as if completely small rubber balls.
The scientist told Max was a poisonous spider.
Goodbye, Max.
You breathed especially beautiful.