September 15, 2009
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Spiders have long legs, and they
scramble across the desert, fingers digging in for purchase,
struggling to crown the smooth, peaked dunes.
They are not doing a very good job, and as their nails
scrape across her flesh, the soft hills crumble,
the animals melting down into sand
fearing the incomers, those that are
not local, don’t belong in the region
and even the wind seems offended,
becoming a silent, pleading moan,
begging the spiders to surrender their quest.
But it too eventually sinks down as the spiders,
two huge, furry tarantulas continue reaching for their goal.

When they finally reach it, perch on top of their “world”,
the desert falls in on itself, retching, until nothing is left
but the shells of insects, and sand.

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