Abstraction, like
strings from a spiderweb
Tying my solar
plexus to your solar plexus.
A whole room of
people tied together with white lies,
Making a web where we
are the intercepts.
All in a circle.
My arms are not
circles
My phantom appendages
fancied a spiderweb
There are lines for
my father and lines for my mother
Lines for fools that
I’ve loved….
Veteran lines from
being in high school.
Most people- they’re
scared of the spiders and spiderwebs.
I marvel at the
structural, tactical achievement.
These lines are a
mess, and I am the center of it.