16 April 2018, Category: poetry
Spinning, dancing aerialists on
invisible wires, barely noticing
the breeze. How different the
world must seem, suspended
on the strongest nothing.
You twirl and whirl in mid-air,
crawling on a sunbeam.
Gravity is nothing to you.
I watch you retreat to
forgotten corners, where
you will weave intricate traps,
watching the room with
eight unblinking eyes.
I shall leave you to spin your
patterns and clear out the flies.