suddenly she's there,
making an eight-legged break
for up-turned dirt and dry leaves

that lady who absorbs
           light
and returns it with black

i pause to marvel at her shiny carapace
then remember granny
killing them with her fingers
to protect her house.

i turn her on her belly,
confirm the expected blotch.
           and stomp.



Buheshang, the author of this fine poem, is considered amongst my friends, The Minister of Culture. Expect more of him in the future.

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