Poem Set in the Day and in the Night
Just do things that are meaningful to you. Go to the beach, says the doctor.
The man lies on his stomach. The sand is fine, chewed through by the waves many times over.
The sun is wide, like an eye cut open, and it blasts the man so that his whole shadow scuttles beneath his belly.
The shadow grows dense and the man sweats himself thin.
The man becomes a web and his shadow becomes a spider.
It’s not that his life passes to the shadow— but a tipping happens as in an hourglass,
and there’s suddenly a new order to the life he never knew was shared.
That night a cricket kills himself in the man.
It’s unbearable, his silk body thrilled through with the screams. All the man is: a speaker—
and not loud enough to communicate the fear to God.
Enough, however, to bring the spider. Who brings a kind of relief.