The Spider

Often I find myself thinking about

the fact that humans will swallow

eight spiders a year

while asleep.

Oh, by the way:

you will probably swallow

eight spiders a year

while asleep.


I imagine it–

the spider–

crawling up me

I imagine that I

am not afraid,

because my

soul has gone away

for the night, and this

is just a body. I imagine,

because I am asleep,

that I do not feel

the spider, or recognize

it, or even know it at all,

so I am not afraid.


I imagine the spider,

maybe a white one,

with ivory legs,

a rare one,

going past my neck,

reaching my jaw and

tracing the line, thinking

about reaching my face,

and then reaching it.

I imagine it touches

my closed lips and

like a princess, I

open my mouth,

knowing somewhere

that something is there,

something that may

free me.


I imagine that spider

crawling then into

my mouth, its

tiny legs padding

like soft snow,

and I imagine

it wanting to

go inside

simply due

to its own agenda.


I imagine it standing

on my tongue, and

looking around,

just wondering.

Trying to understand

what ancient race

was created here

and traveling further

down the tunnel

to confirm its




there has been

no evidence to back

up this fact. Many claim that

a spider would be deterred

by the breathing of a

human. That it would not

like the movements

I make in my sleep.

Many claim that no spider

would be foolish enough

to enter a human’s mouth

but I do not

put myself above

eating one.


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