There's a wolf spider in the corner of the room.
It remains in the same spot,
And it's gigantic.
It looks at you menacingly.
You can't even bring yourself to be near it,
And you wonder,
Where was it when it was still so little?
When it's still something you could have handled?
It's never too late to still face it.
You know you can't get yourself to completely kill it.
When you try to, it multiplies.
You could grab a plastic container and trap it there,
Free it in a place where it couldn't harm anyone.
In that special place, it could even be collected for examination.
A unique spider sighting that is now hanged,
As a picture frame.
YOU ARE READING
The Thread of Every Needle (DEMO VERSION)
PoetryThis book aims to provide knowledge about day-to-day objects and imbue them with life lessons. Almost every line offers a new, unique meaning of its own.
