2019/02/22
Spidey
A small hand takes out Spidey from the top bunk
space, he lives up there because he has no brother
and calls it the roof to his bed. It is nice out-
side and the leaves of the old oak out back blow
like the hair part to the one side of a woman’s head, blurred
because the branches move fast in wind and the green shines
in highlights just before noon. when you throw Spidey in the air, he flies briefly
and it is nice to see the point where gravity and lift
meet and he is suspended and frozen in the moment
of compromise and loftiness. As we near the tree
it is large like an imagined villain, there is a growth of fungus
that distorts the bark, bulbous and overwhelming. Falling, the hand
catches Spidey, the tree looking in, the beginning of fingers taking form
like an evil scrawl.