When the Spider Spins Her Webs Like That:Lux Aeterna

March 24, 2020 Kate Belew with Lux Aeterna (New York)

When I was a teenager, I was able to blow

out a matchstick's fire with just my eyes.

And I wanted to destroy flame as much

as I wanted to destroy anything else: 

that's girlhood write small, I suppose.

When I was a teenager I was able to

lie without even trying to. I guess

that's what comes when you don't know how

to tell your own truth—or how to discover it

in broad daylight or when the spider spins

her webs like that... different every time.
How to learn not to get caught, no

matter how pretty the web, how soft 

the spider's paws can be, but for the jaws.

You and I, we sit on the porch and imagine

those years before: small heat, careful weaver. 

You know I have to ask if you're a silken trap

or hopeful spark. I can't lie to you, even now,

as the urban city finally sleeps: last night,

I stared into open flame again

and begged it to stop.