Sunday, December 28, 2008

Threads

If life were measured like a thread, who will cut off
the fly from a spider's fiber, dead and swinging like a pendulum?

How many threads can bury a spider with legs dismembered
by soldier ants crawling over his upside-down body?

Stirring the mud, the rain digs on the earth a shallow grave.

2 comments:

Dom Cimafranca said...

Love this poem!

KaloyBrown said...

Hey Dominique,

Thanks for passing by!

Joel