Self Portrait With Spiders
I stand still and let the spiders
spin their webs in all directions.
Each curve and angle of my body
is an anchor point. Each scar,
each detail of my history shapes
their work. They sense my breathing,
throw their threads into the eddies,
and catch them on the other side.
The spiders move like smoke.
They whisper over bare skin,
stepping lightly, trailing silk
that fills the room around my frame.
When they’re done, I step out
of the space they’ve made,
let it fill with light.
Born in Australia, Diane Mulholland now lives in London where she can often be found beside the Thames. Her poems have appeared in journals including Brittle Star, South Bank Poetry, and Ink Sweat and Tears. Find her on twitter @dianemulholland.