How thrilling to find you in your
tiny life zigzagging pages
of this book at I look for Frost's
poem concerning a spider.
the killing now as he did. You, dancing
on print when I could slam you shut
and open to death.
His spider seems
bulbous and slow by the tone of their
encounter. Your are pale and swift,
legs finer than infant hairs.
careening on this plain of words is
charming. And by this line, you could
be squashed by my lethal finger, instead,
you flee into the folds of the book's spine.
by Maria Sassi