Poem Spam

[aquabean]

Vacuuming Spiders
by Charles Goodrich

I admire their geometrical patience,
the tidy way they wrap up leftovers,
their willingness to be the earth's
most diligent consumers of small bitternesses.

Sometimes at night I hear them
casting silk threads, clicking their spinnerets,
plucking their webs like blind Irish harpists.
I can almost taste the fruit of the fly
like sucking the pulp from a grape.

But when their webs on the ceiling
begin to converge, and the floor
glitters with shards of insect wings
I drag out the vacuum
and poke its terrible snout under the sofa,
behind the radio—everywhere,

for this is the home of a human being
and I must act like one
or the whole picture goes haywire.

Comments

[tragic-elegance.livejournal.com]

I identify with this poem a lot.

I really don't mind vacuuming up webs in the corners, but I hate vacuuming up spiders themselves. It makes me upset. When I was younger I cried once when Mom vacuumed up a spider. I try to save them. Spiders are allowed in the garage, though.

The last stanza is nice. <3

[runefallstar.livejournal.com]

It's always nice to hear back from people on poems.

I drove my parents nuts by forever trying to save snails.