Spider Meghan Casey           1 Suspended on gleams of threadbare light the brazen spiders arch their limbs,      posing between the rails of the bridge at night     like whores      before the faint red glow              of old screen doors           2 Some are bulbous and dunder-headed,     loutish Edwardian uncles      who drink too much cordial           and wear their top hats cockeyed      who blubber into strangers' shoulders           and beg forgiveness for long-forgotten indiscretions           3 Some are seamstresses ceaselessly stitching  straining their pincushion bodies and needle eyes       sewing corners into kinship           4 Some are sinister hands      clenched, brown and withered        So easy to mistake for          bristling burrs or hard thistle hearts           5 Some have the facets of diamonds and the furry faces of house cats They purr plush contentment    sink deeper into the cushions           6   There are spindly can-can dancer legs     that writhe in the air       to mute symphonies           7   Some are violins and others are accordions           and some are conductors             composing translucent melodies in shimmering space           8 The spider is a pebble     dropped into rippling water                 transfixed and embraced                             amidst the bead bodies of flies Published in Out/Words #1 (view contents)