A Spider Poem by Colette Bryce
A Spider
I trapped a spider in a glass,
a fine-blown wineglass.
It shut around him, silently.
He stood still, a small wheel
of intricate suspension, cap
at the hub of his eight spokes,
inked eyes on stalks; alert,
sensing a difference.
I meant to let him go
but still he taps against the glass
all Marcel Marceau
in the wall that is there but not there,
a circumstance I know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 5:32:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
