The Spider

It had been a month since the last spider sat on my wall;
smug and dark, casting a quivering shadow against the white.

You appeared so suddenly, and when I least expected it;
I didn’t fear you or want to kill you – your presence just irritated me.

I left you sitting there for hours, hoping you would crawl away,
back to where you had come from, leaving my wall blank and clean.

But hours later, there you sat, unmoved and still as if you were waiting.
Waiting for the right moment; willing to stay still until the time came.

I tried to ignore your cumbersome body and skeletal legs,
and turned away in disgust, focusing on other things.

When I decided I was tired and wanted to sleep, you chose
that moment to move; first one leg, then another.

Tentative, uncertain: a slow, careful walk across the ceiling; then
a fearful scurry closer and closer to the space above my head.

I watched as you stopped, directly above my face, as if
considering your next step across the endless expanse of magnolia.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, part of me saying it’s just a spider,
taking on the huge plain you had to cross to reach the other side.

The other part of me staring, frozen in exhilarated fear,
unable to move as you tried to spin a web on the ceiling …

I watched as you slipped and lost your hold; you fell
and landed right next to my disbelieving face.

I let out a cry, started, and on impulse, crushed you.
You died.

I sometimes regret you didn’t reach the other side.

About the Author

Maeve Moran

My name is Maeve Moran and I'm a seventeen-year-old student from Kilkenny College. Whenever I'm not writing or reading I enjoy acting, playing guitar, practising martial arts and drinking coffee. This is my third published poem.