I discovered a spider lurking in the corner
of my room. Yes, lurking--a word implying
criminal intent. These creatures are a clear and
present danger to my peace and well-being.
This is my room, **** it. Why can't
it just go back to where it came?

I read somewhere once, probably on the internet,
that Australia has something like eight million species
of spider; and most, if not all, are
so venomous that they can **** you with
just one glance. They just stalk in bushes,
in your shoes, and under the toilet seat.
Now, I've never befriended a spider, don't know
enough about them to dispute this information. But,
anything that looks like that can't be anything
except a threat to me and society.
I am extraordinarily uncomfortable. While I realize this
is not Australia and there is plenty open
earth between here are there, aren't they all
related? Aren't they all the same by blood?

Honestly, my first reaction to finding this trespasser
is to reach for a shoe, or hammer,
a gun, or a match and a gallon
of gasoline. Yes, that's right--gas and flame.
Light it all up, burn it all down.
I wouldn't call this arachnophobia; instead, a valid
response to a perceived threat. I love living
here but I can't let my room stand
to further the spider agenda now, can I?

However, lately I've been trying to be more
present, to practice this radical idea where I
think before acting. So, I'm trying to not
react so harshly to things that scare me,
to things I don't understand... like spiders.
Why should I be afraid, anyway? I know
what I've read but are they that dangerous?
No spider ever confronted me in the streets
and beat, or shanked, shot, or robbed me.
In fact, I can't even verify as to
whether even one has even bitten me. Maybe
mosquitoes are just giving them a bad rap.
And no spider certainly ever threatened to take
my job. Let's be honest. I would never
spin web. Have you seen how hard
they toil at that? And for minimum wage?

I still want to reach for some tool
of destruction; but to stay my hand,
I devise stories about my intruder. Humanize it.

Maybe he doesn't even want to be here.
Maybe he really wants to reside on the soil
of his birth, but civil war sent him
fleeing. Or he had to abandon home before
some bigger, scarier creatures knocked on his web.

Maybe he lost his job and he's out
looking for work but no one is hiring
and he needed to just stop and cry
because his web is just days from foreclosure.

Maybe he just has nowhere else to go
because his staunchly religious parents kicked him out
upon tragically discovering he's atheist; or worse, gay.

Maybe he is not even he. Maybe she
was born he but now identifies as she
and has been holding her bladder for hours
looking for a bathroom to use without all
of her spider kin going crazy over it.

Maybe she made a wrong turn while heading
to a march against an over-reaching patriarchy
or is look for an open Planned Parenthood.

Maybe she's vegan. Maybe I'm not in danger.
Maybe I'm not as desirable as I thought.

The possibilities are endless. Even if I don't
like spiders, even if I think they're monsters,
it's a lot harder to harm something when
you know it has a story. Maybe they
can be dangerous; but can't we all be
when threatened? This may just be a silly
poem about a spider, but I hope there's
a metaphor about something much bigger here somewhere.