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  John Cornwall
   
     
The Spider
 
All morning I have watched
The spider spin her silks
Without aid or sympathy,
Just the promise that says
This has to be.
 
Then at noon when she chances
Into day she shunts
Into a silence more deadly
Than any noise heard before.
And we have lost our mercies
In listening.
 
And when the sun dampens and the evening turns
I touch her web that falls to ground,
A sense now of something wrong,
Lady spider without circumstance
 
Fastened to a suicidal body
Asking for recompense
From anyone who might hear
And applaud, given
The act of pain I exacted
With a fingers' touch,
Wavering but certain,
 
A long falling down into moonlight.

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