by Ajmer Rode

Take my two hands

make eight feet of them

give them to the spider I

soaked in hot water in

my kitchen sink.

I will hide my arms

in long sleeves, will

finish the last painting with

brush in my teeth

but take my two hands.

If the spider

curled up into

silence, dies

she will weave her next web

in my soul

will travel with me

through all the lives

eighty four thousand

and more.

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Leela, 1999

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