190: To the Victims of the Silken Thread

A spider spins a weave over my bed, clambering

with legs moving mechanically

and I can almost imagine the taptaptap

of claws tapping along the wooden beam

like dancers in a studio

as we turn and turn again and change hands

like currency for safekeeping, spoiled

if we ever touch the ground too long

step after step after step after step

feet hitting the ground in a rhythmic walk

like waves washing up on a shore in the dark

night before the new moon creeps out

and all there is is dark

as we watch for the coming moon reborn

as we tilt our heads back to look for Orion

and Cassiopeia and the Plough and the North Star

it is dark

dark between the wooden beams

as the spider disappears behind its weave and I look

for the next victim of the silken thread.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.