Arachne
Veiled by lace she sits. Facing September
mists, getting fatter by the minute she
sits eating mites. Trailing out their insides
thinning rapidly into air, visited
by the minister she lies. A spinner
she weaves, waves of fog curling her belly
twice he rings. Twisting a stick round his hands,
a faint wisp of smoke in the air. Cursing
she speaks and putting down her knitting she
opens the door. Wands of wool tangle her
hair – nets full of birds – webs full of words
nesting under the thatch reaching for air.
Janet Smith is a Yorkshire-born scientist and poet living in Birmingham. Poetry published in Orbis, Abridged and other small press publications. Longlisted for Flarestack poets 2012 pamphlet competition and the 2012 Hippocrates prize; poems appear in the competition anthologies of both competitions.