Sacred vows broken in air-conditioning
don’t add up to the same thing…
the full-blown moon enlivens
the spider’s web: an insect as dead
on the outer layers as on the inner ones.
Above me, the daddy long-legs—
enemy of redbacks—sucks
the fluids out of blowflies and slaters,
and drops them desiccated,
shrouded, by me as I type.
The room I work in is a boat.
Looking out from the dark
I travel faster into the moon’s
irregular light than is even
theoretically possible.
I cannot see the moon
from where I am sitting. The daddy
long-legs is loud on its web.
Earlier, caught in the mirror,
I noticed the sun had damaged
my facial skin further,
I am content in the sun.
Increasing the light damages
my eyesight and yet, momentarily,
I can read the night trees clearer.
Liver spots, splotches, multi-vitamin
error zones: temporal
failures on the body’s outer limits.