Look at your spider legs
clambering out like that
as though your crab cage
has stayed too still, sat
too long as a street tumour
spat up on the pavement.
You must miss the frailness
of the skin that sheltered
your birth, the patterns
strewn across the sheets
in blurs of stripes and dots,
colours and tones. But now
it's a sickly sight, those ribs
scuttle like limbs pushing
through a shell that suited
your broken spindles just
fine. Maybe you need a fix
of a skin to get you in shape,
web the joints in the hope
someone will hold you again,
your handle gripped in hand.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:01 AM UTC
Look at your spider legs
clambering out like that
as though your crab cage
has stayed too still, sat
too long as a street tumour
spat up on the pavement.
You must miss the frailness
of the skin that sheltered
your birth, the patterns
strewn across the sheets
in blurs of stripes and dots,
colours and tones. But now
it's a sickly sight, those ribs
scuttle like limbs pushing
through a shell that suited
your broken spindles just
fine. Maybe you need a fix
of a skin to get you in shape,
web the joints in the hope
someone will hold you again,
your handle gripped in hand.
Based off seeing mangled umbrella spokes sticking out of a bin.
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