The Language of Spiders

after Elsa Tio

1.

When endless space whets
her appetite for swallowing
time the spider     her stitches
made of air     weaves her web
of dust and mystery
mid light
mid shadow
mid fear.
Her thread     without needle
never harmed by wind
still as silver
soft as dreams spins the surface of silence
into tired old corners.

Always alone     she weaves
a language of ghosts
and one evening star.

2.

The spider     no longer omen
of regret     crawls across the moon
swallowing its energy. From her body
she spins filaments of light
tracing mysterious webs
in ebony sky. From earth

we watch as she sails
like thisle-down     threads
levitating her body above us.
We wait balancing on dust
for her to drop feather-
like on our ground.

3.

Spider dreams weave
portraits in image
and word.
Makers we draw fragile strength
from our bodies creating
order from words
dust
memory.

4.

Madre de Dios sews
with a spindle inside
mountains of stone
weaving her thread
into the spider's web.
Together they create
a magic spiral
connecting
earth and sky.

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