The Spider

Philippe Blenkiron

"Is God a Spider?" I asked,

"constantly weaving

electron threads into

spiraling elemental webs?

His iron will, spun

with a silk of liquid steel,

torn by the slightest of whims?

His tenacious tapestry resewn,

a glistening embroidery

of frosted jewelled fibrils?"

"God scares me," you said,

"In the corner of the room,

observant, unmoving,

a silent host of eyes.

His uncanny mechanics,

a mystery of hydraulic ink

wrapped in adhesive shadow.

"But He's a friend," she replied

"Call Him carpenter,

cellar-dweller,

a long-limbed daddy,

because He eats

flies like sins, labours

in your shed while you hammer and nail,

accompanies your best wine.

Raise a toast, man, raise your cup

high

to the ceiling

to Him

then you can slide something thin

between the glass and the wall

and take Him outside

so he doesn't bother anyone."

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO