Death of a Spider


There, silhouetted between the gossamer curtain
and the window, i saw it:
the perfect silhouette of a fat, healthy spider.

the shape looked like
a black widow (sort of)—
stocky and fat enough. Well fed.

I moved the curtain up a bit
(though it was held top and bottom by rods attached to the windowsill
of my back porch door)
and he moved a bit in a jerky sort of way, the way spiders do.
Just imperceptibly up.

At the same time, I was removing my slipper
(sheepskin, with the fleece starting to wear)
ever so smoothly but with conviction…

He was now clearly outlined between
the pane and the curtain; nowhere to go.
“Whap!” he didn’t seem hit.
“Whap!” again, and this time,
the light shone through
the browns and blacks
of his corrupted body;
a stain on the white curtain.

I carefully removed the top rod, then the bottom,
freeing the curtain
without letting the liquefied mass
touch my clothing

and put the two pieces of the curtain in a bucket
with detergent and water
to soak.

The stain will come out; the fabric is nylon.

Why am i such a murderer?

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