When the spiders come
inside, surprised off
the cacti that summered out,
and string up the ceiling,
and lace the white curtain
across in the fine light,
the beauties, I breathe them down.
Unpinned, they fall
into my fine-lipped cup,
the paper lid on
through the whole house
to the sunk garden,
the hopes handed out, and staying out.
from Inside Spiders
Copyright © Persea Books 2013
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.