Battle

I am currently, as I write this, engaged in a terrifying battle of wills with a rather bold spider who has decided that my bedroom curtains are now his home. This is not a true fact – the bedroom curtains belong very firmly to this house where I live, and where the spider does not live, but he is continuing with his antics regardless. So, what is a writer to do but write a poem about this experience and hope that the spider sees it and becomes so ashamed with his brazen behaviour that he promptly moves out. Well… here’s hoping, anyway.

Battle

Lock eyes with me, you little, articulated,
bold-lined, ink-legged beast. Look at me,
with those eight eyes of yours – all of them.
Catch my gaze and keep it, creature.

Under the charges of breaking and entering,
I demand that you kneel. Bear their burden.
As this is a court of my own, I add to that
the charge of brazen intimidation.

In your own realm, you may dance upon
silken ropes threaded with dew drops,
but not here. I would not stamp on your
mother’s house – do not defile mine.

We do not share language, it is true,
but we also do not share a home, which is
apparently contrary to your own beliefs,
my little rival. So, what shall we do?

I can lay it out for you in written terms,
in a spider-scrawl that you may recognise:
leave this place—leave it at once—
and let me never see your tiny face again.

Enjoyed the poem? Why not check out Our Paused World or Aleatory Poetry?

(They’re my poetry collections! Available on Amazon!)