eight more hours (of community service)

/
i couldn’t help the groaning this
morning i didn’t mean to wake you
or let the warmth leak from beneath
the quilt you knit for me last week
ok,
i secretly wanted you to
tell me how sorry you were that
my time doesn’t belong to me
and console me with your kisses

//
the recesses of the neglected foundation
of the main street firehouse
are furnished with rotting
cabinets, rusty exercise equipment,
a mutilated electric typewriter,
a massive knot of rubber hose,
odds, ends
dust, dirt, and grime

oh, and cobwebs
because there are spiders down there

spiders have no flesh
they have exoskeletons

and eight legs for scurrying
and jumping into your hair
and she’ll wait for you notice
and if you don’t she’ll make a home
and lay her eggs in your ears
and they’ll hatch while you’re sleeping
and creep into your brains
and then she’s got you

///
to curb my fear and pass the time
i thought of you flushed and trembling
beneath me, clutching me to your
chest as you bite my left shoulder
mm
with self assurance and renewed
confidence, i swept away the
egg sacks, cobwebs, and dead insects
dancing with the broom while I worked

////
mother spider’s fangs were itching
she was positioned directly above my head
she had witnessed the massacre of her babies
and demolition of her home
she had been seething there
waiting
patiently
to get me

spiders probably have cold blood
if they even have blood

her little black heart was pumping venom
no doubt

she was hiding behind silk curtains
in the corner of the farthest room
the darkest room
i was lucky to have noticed her
i was lucky to
toss my broom
and run
upstairs

/////
the fireman said she was harmless
the fireman said spiders have their place
the fireman said without spiders, insects would rule the world
the fireman said I should be grateful for mother spider

//////
mother spider had disappeared
probably to one of the cracks
in the floor or wall where the dirt
gets in I ran my fingers through
my hair
just in case

///////
i returned to my task and soon
any semblance of spiderness
was fully eliminated
when the white paint came out, of course
i thought of coming on your belly
and pushing it all around
i laugh, you giggle, your mother
sensing that her daughter had just
climaxed, cursed me from the desk
of her catholic school room
about a thousand miles away
wondering about my intentions

when you were almost all white
mother spider peaked out your mouth
and scurried down your sticky chest
leaving tiny tracks in her trail

////////
i caught her beneath my brush
sticking her there
preserving her in the wall
where her children would have roamed freely

her legs continued to kick
but slowed
until finally she was
still
as a statue
white
as a wedding dress
and thoroughly dead there

a monument to the unborn









Another Six Hours (of community service)

Hidden within the ditch and teeming brush,
with great relief I take a steaming piss.
I try to write your name but have to rush
it and I only get a “Di.” Alas,
why must I always fail to perform
adequately? I fear my member may
be cursed. A wretched and ill-fated worm
lies writhing, fallen victim to my spray,
squirming in excremental agony.
Hermaphroditic little peeping tom,
perverted little bastard! (not you, honey)
You cruel reminder of my bungledom!

A spineless grub, a felon, and some trash
belongs along the side of Kilgore Ave.
 

 
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