The Spider and the Snake
There’s a big ol spider that lives over New York,
Scurrying from Brooklyn to the Bronx, or
Manhattan to Long Island.
His web is woven in crisscross,
Strong black seams that stretch all over
Creating eternal hotspots for fat spiteful pigeons
or landmarks that speak of home.
No one tries to knock him down
Not the people, not the earth, not even
the silver snake that slides by his webs
day in and day out. Night and day.
He slips beneath the carefully laid wires
Avoiding the trap made for airplanes or helicopters
He dives deep in dark damp tunnels
pops above, to lick up the last lingers of light when night falls,
and black spider threads, become invisible.