A spider in its web
is a mistress,
a of myriad things:
for instance,
a five-finger exercise
or a full-bare breast on which
a hand is tenderly spread.
On a canvas space,
spider-forms evoke layers of
meanings. Imagine this:
from secret holes of
moonlit camphor trees
come out love-lorn
female spiders,
wanderers of dark nooks,
enticing perfect mates.
The deceptive calm
in them is the most
dangerous precept,
if you know a spider
the way you should.
I watch her sitting on the floor
at the far end of
the poorly lit room where
a group is in its
usual squabbling.
She is bored, still aroused
no one else, and she
looks at my lips.
The spider web
is a sign language she
communicates:
she playfully points her finger
down between her legs.
Curious, I strain my eyes
in the oily yellow light,
see the phantom of a spider:
dark, sinister with a gleaming eye.
K. BALACHANDRAN writes poetry and short fiction in English, Malayalam, and Tamil. His poems have appeared in Asia Writes, Kritya, Brown Critique, and other journals.
is a mistress,
a of myriad things:
for instance,
a five-finger exercise
or a full-bare breast on which
a hand is tenderly spread.
On a canvas space,
spider-forms evoke layers of
meanings. Imagine this:
from secret holes of
moonlit camphor trees
come out love-lorn
female spiders,
wanderers of dark nooks,
enticing perfect mates.
The deceptive calm
in them is the most
dangerous precept,
if you know a spider
the way you should.
I watch her sitting on the floor
at the far end of
the poorly lit room where
a group is in its
usual squabbling.
She is bored, still aroused
no one else, and she
looks at my lips.
The spider web
is a sign language she
communicates:
she playfully points her finger
down between her legs.
Curious, I strain my eyes
in the oily yellow light,
see the phantom of a spider:
dark, sinister with a gleaming eye.
K. BALACHANDRAN writes poetry and short fiction in English, Malayalam, and Tamil. His poems have appeared in Asia Writes, Kritya, Brown Critique, and other journals.
