Tuesday, December 07, 2004


Under the shadow of the Christmas tree
A spider carefully unwrapped itself
As a small child, December twenty-first
Might make a small, illicit inquiry
Through tape and paper of his pending bounty
Then, stifling his joy or his displeasure
Repair the breach and steal away, the spider
In luminescence, splayed, seemed to consider
Its happiness a moment, then retrieved
Again its compass-pointed legs and sauntered
Along the baseboard, where its fancied likeness
To cunning children died, for there I killed it
Rising to do so from a borrowed couch
Less citizen than fellow refugee
In the apartment but for that my hostess
Would rather die herself than lodge a spider.
Do not think my ungentleness to strangers
(At Christmas yet!) springs from antipathy;
Housing in Little Rock (in any season)
Is, for the jobless, worth the warring over
And charity a bourgeois luxury
Unfit for the unlanded such as me


Blogger M. Lumpkin said...

So, how long are you planning on playing the spider assasin? Hmm. Little rock sounds nice this time of year. Maybe we'll join you...

December 8, 2004 at 3:34 PM  

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