"octopedal" poems
When a spider is scared,
Too scared to run,
To bite,
It draws together.
Knees press inward,
Meeting at a point,
They cover their vulnerability
In an impenetrable wall
Of legs and cuticle.
Tonight, when I close my eyes-
When all I want is the silent,
Empty screen of sleep-
I see the octopedal child
Curled,
Frightened.
I think; "this is me."
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC