Godhead

You used to clear the cobwebs with a broom. You had an outside broom and an inside broom. I think it frustrated you that it isn’t possible for a spider to hang its head. You turned the lights on to seal the roaches in too. Like they were secrets. Like they were yours. If you ever caught one I think you would crack it open like a crab. Things are different now. When I am quiet I can hear them breathing. I can hear the draft under the door. The mealworms share my wine. Still life happens. Some days I wake up wiping wings from my eyes. I use antennae to stitch up loose cocoons. See, between the two of us I was not the one wasting anything. I never poured water straight into the ground.