Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Black Widow

by Melissa Dickson

That summer I counted eight, nine, ten.
Under upturned flower pots,
behind the gutter spout, in the drink cup
of an outgrown stroller. The children
had never seen anything so black.
Black as funeral boots, I said; black
as an ebonized chest; black
as my skillet, oil-rubbed, glistening;

black as Vulcan’s ass. We sprayed
them with bleach, poured gasoline
in their nests, thrust sticks in the breaches
of mortar—dying to call out
that enchanted globe of belly,
infinity mirror. Her hourglass,
aflame, hidden even in the pleats
of jade rising inside my den.

1 comment:

  1. Wow! As a kid who spent a lot of time outdoors in the southern part of the United States, we were always fearful of the Black Widow spider. I can't imagine being a mother teaching her children to love the outdoors while remaining careful of the spiders that can kill us. Kill or be killed. Wonderful luscious poem!