There was a time when (all) spiders loved me

Wrote this earlier:

There was a time when spiders loved me - my taste

Biting the sides of my legs before a shower

Living behind the radiator

Sleeping in towels - itchy caves

I’d wake with brand new bumps

Red ink-spots on my ankles, flaking or scratching

Fire under my nails

Conrad the spider, hiding between

Kesey and Snyder

Rattling around in my

Dark heart

Downstairs

Upstairs

Waiting in cracks ‘neath the bath-tub

Into house through vents and

Forgotten windows

Given up biting myself or persuading others to bite me

It’s not the kind of contact I am used to:

Only hard business where the skin nearly broke –

Pig-skin turned sour
I remain, unmoved, for days until

Spectral reappearance! Crawling

Up my legs, arms, nose, shirt

In my brain – behind my eyes,

Kissing them open –

Heavy doors

I am awake!

Loyal spider-friends have nursed me good

Saying less, doing more than anyone

I shake through all my towels

No spiders waiting for a shoulder-ride

None sleeping in there, thank you

Socks in a snake-pile, but no spiders within

Towel after towel, the evidence is conclusive

'Weary of my bloodless old taste'

I sleep facing the wall, that night

Long legs crawl back into the corners of my eyes