Spiders Poem by Efratan Tolla

I wasn't a troubled child, I did what I was told and never fussed, until the sky starts getting darker and the spiders come out, I hide under mama's dress hoping the clanging and bangs of the pots and pans hide the spiders until the sun wakes up and sneak the spiders in corners and behind the frosted flakes on top of our shelf. But tonight there was no floral print dress to wrap myself around, the silence is deafening as the pots and pans are stacked away. I lay on my bed desperately wanting to call mama to smell her lavender scent and hug the flowers that became my refuge, but I don't because I'm not a troubled child so, I lay still shutting my eyes catching the tears praying it won't spill knowing they would like if it did, I tremble feeling their touch slide into my skin pulling, grabbing, pinching and bruising crawling until they grabbed what they want and crawl back into the dark waiting for the next night to rip my teared innocence until all that's left are the unwashed marks of the spiders shaped like hands.