Andrew's Writing

I somehow transformed
yesterday night when eight
legs crawled across my leg
during the peaceful sleep
that only greets you once
or twice a month.

The spider danced on my thigh
and I didn’t know it was there
until I rolled over to better occupy
the negative space of the mattress.

The bite was an intimate prick
like a needle
but pleasant
at the same time
like the pride and smile
that accompany a new tattoo.

I stood up and took the corpse
which had been crushed in my comfort
to the window and allowed it
vacancy on my window sill
until the morning.

I was different after that.
Somehow charged
by the small enemy(?)
in the sheets trying to find its way
home.

I was removed from the lands
of dreams, clouds, and earth
that I was enjoying inhabiting
for a while at least.
I stayed up and entertained
the thought of having eight
long
legs.

So I returned to sleep
after my face became acquainted
with the ice-cold liquid
from the bathroom sink.
Still hot.
And charged.
And somehow different.