Spider (an extended memory) by Ayla Rogers

Spider by Ayla Rogers

Remember the nights we went out walking?

How you were getting caught in spider webs,

Whether or not the path ahead was clear?

You swore them real, could feel them on your skin.

Like the conversations she tried to have,

They tangled you in intricate silk threads--

Made you shake, shiver as you clenched your fists.

We never found the spiders, save for one

Who lived in the corner of your bedroom

Almost as long as you did, spinning code,

Sucking on corpses of pests for supper

And spitting up on documentaries,

Reminding you how different we are

From them but not each other, so enmeshed

Before we dreamt we’d even get along.

You crept deep inside me, spinning secrets

Wisps of soft steel shot through my weakest nerve,

Bound me tightly so I could not loose them

From my lips without seeking permission

Cocooned in white like an eager bridegroom

With more vows than trains could deliver you.

An abyss between two nests of meaning,

One a little meaner than the other,

Saves silk for catching nightmares and stray hairs,

Losing teeth and aging without growing

Any closer to the friend he wanted.

You’d sooner die than hang on to the end

I cast across the room every evening,

Like taut twine between aluminum cans.

The cord you know you’ll never stop cutting

With blades I bade you borrow for your sake--

For the bondage you bind while I’m spinning

Records of songs to stick to the ceiling,

Singing you to sleep when I go walking

In the night, no spider webs to catch me.

No cautious words to tie me to your bed,

To catch my dreams of worms, snails, and mollusks.

They stick in their own way, like a habit,

To wed an eternally absent being

Who only ties knots in his own stomach,

Who only ties his hand with strings of words

I was too afraid to tether you with.

Remember the nights you asked me to stay?

I went out walking, looking for the webs

That tangle your tongue with their foreboding

Of replicable multiplicity.

Webs you’ve been spinning since she spat sick flies

I’d not stomach without gagging, choking

On such revolting insincerity.

I never found the spiders, save for one

Who stayed in your bedroom almost as long

As the tale you spun for us lying there.

The next time we went walking in the dark

I asked you to show me the strands you felt,

The threads that made you shiver every night,

The traps I’d not been setting for your heart.

Between my fingers they vanished to air

And you admitted, it was quite likely

They were cobwebs in your head, real in threat--

Missing from the lacing of our fingers.

Still, sometimes you get wrapped up in the spool.

Imaginary nets to drag you out

When they said we made a beautiful pair.

Held captive in a sea of silver fish,

Still starving for that old carnival prize

While I spend my evenings in this lighthouse.

Low on anchors, drag-nets gathering dust,

Attracting widows who only bore holes.

Spinning webs I taught you to untangle,

Pining to feel your silk against my skin,

For you to spit your secrets back at me

And suck this silent venom from my veins.