Was thinking of you as I ******
the chardonnay out, black exile
to sewage. Was thinking of you
and those trusts - thrice drawn
out of me - breath ******
in perverse resuscitation -
collapsed a lung
and shudders my gut
in the steam of it. And then,

Soft-bodied and filament,
a spider reared up,
pin-legged,
from behind the tank,
and topped the unset clock,
flashing twelve and twelve
and twelve again.

And with my one hand free
I plucked it up, loose-pinched
between my thumb and index,
held it up before the mirror,
before the medicine cabinet mirror
and the lights, buzzing rifts,
bad as daybreak and drought.

And thus, this spider and you,
dropped upon the waters,
yellowed and foamed, spun
quickly down the trap,
a larger purge to a purging.