Transference

Pawn

We all need some thing to fear:
a tangible object to hold
the terror of all the
abstract haunts that
catch us and pull us
taut - the tension
of a strand of cells,
striated, tight, isometric,
supporting the weight,
the strain of heavy
space - empty, infinite
- and worse - blank
but teeming with control
and lack thereof, intimacy
and loneliness, breaking
force, noise and
silence, mock
sincerity and strangeness
writhing
with an awkward,
uncomfortable
inconsistency; movement
hindered by its own
matter filling its own
vacancy, smothering
and cold.

Spiders are small and finite.