To the Spiders

No one would miss you. No one
would notice the absence
of your sniping gloom in my
bedroom — except me. And so I let you

live on and sink deeper
into your knitted homes. Because I know
as soon as you’re gone, every piece of dust
that rolls across the hardwood will be you.

Every small sweep of the sheet against
my skin at night will be you. And though
I will not see you, like the white bones
hidden in my dark body, I will know you are there.