Drop by. I live alone.
After years of renting
I am spinning my own web.
Do come. See its form take shape.
Rumor has it I am devouring
myself for the sake of my children.
It is not true. Love consumes, yes
but feeds the giver. In the uneven threads
in the tight little net, you can read
some fear, some anger, some doubt. Don't worry.
It's not to ensnare you. I am trying to catch
a winged thing who, without waving his
hand or saying good-bye, deserted me.
When the web is done I will take up
singing. A cricket I caught
serenaded me once so I fed him well
and let him go.