Spider Woman

by Carolyn Dunn

Here

in your house

amongst the

pretty laced

china cup,

silk scarves

and books lining the shelves,

I take comfort

in you having

slept here,

thought new worlds

here,

breathed fire here,

made your enemies

drink their own blood,

watched the sun rise,

the sound of water

slowly spreading

its fingers in loving

prayer.

Your beautiful

linens, wallpapered

borders hand–drawn,

woven in color and content,

all in one.

I'm not long for

this world,

you said in

a dream

of another time,

space, life, lace,

feathered light and air,

yet there you sat, telling

me it was time.

Then you were gone.

Five hundred miles later,

through old haze,

children crying,

gnarled trunks

and congested airways,

I lay here, looking for you.

A last song of days

looms sweetly

amongst the tangled web

you so carefully spun from

your body,

fingers dancing, spinning,

until time stood still.

I lay here, dreaming your voice,

watching light and air

fall from spinarets and

thousand faceted eyes

of sky blown clouds.

Last night,

frogs sang, calling rain home.

The sky opened up,

dreaming the dark rimmed

edge of night along

a rain basted sky,

clouds seamless,

the only thing missing

was you.