THE FIRE A SNARE IN THE DARK OF THE WOODS
One girl is a spider weaving home from her gut. One girl is a giggle
spider pulsing in the corner. One girl is winged like a whistling
spider, ringing a cry through fogged air. One girl is beautifully
perched, a bold outstretch of her spider legs. Spiders
patching their satinhouses.
One girl loves spiders the way a spider loves a corner in which it will stiffen and die.
What else comes and climbs like slow lightning.
One girl undresses before the rest, pulling apart her buttocks to release a fine, red scarf.
Reburying worms brought up in the rain. Reburying boats stormed up in the wharf.
One girl stands at the dawn of daylight, ushering shadows to take cover.
One girl is a bonfire, foreshadowing.
A flame for one’s eyes. A noise for one’s ears. A tongue for one’s slick throat.
Shavings of fire. Sparks in the fire. Worms and spiders both let themselves
down by wires.
Jessica Comola is a poet and multimedia artist. See more of her work at www.jessicacomola.com or follow her on Instagram @jlcomola