Spider Jesus by Haleigh Dixon

To the spider:

High in the sky.

You’re a wit-man.

Spraying filament.

Filament.

Filament.

With woven prose.

There you string.

Come down like Jesus.

To whom, I don’t believe.

You’re a wave in the wind.

A taunt with legs.

Disappearing into nothingness.

Rolling white,

Green tresses,

Leaves.

Among the clouds and the trees,

You’re the object of envy,

the continuation of me,

you and I,

the same.

BRINGER OF ALL THINGS.