Thursday, February 10, 2022


It used to 
make me feel 
like a deity 

to smash 
the occasional hairy
brown spider 

down the length 
of my hallway molding—

the way I'd swoop down
from outside 
its ontology, 

as if forcefully teaching 
its whole phylum
a lesson.

But gradually,
it's begun to make me feel
like a casualty

to always be teaching, 
never learning 
from these sessions.

I've thought—could it be 
even more radical still 
to pivot and turn 

on that retributive foot?
To tend, if not 
to the gardens of mercy, 

than at least 
to the flowers 
of nonchalance? 

Can I yet learn to do 
that which
daunts me most

and spurn a god 
who must manifest 
his worth?

And will
learning to do so 
somehow make me 

right here on earth?