Today’s spiders weave their noun traps –
Money, Hunter, Harvestman and House
at our corners –
webbing us in routine,
spinning bills with work and rationality’s
bluster at our rotting, window sills.
Lying now on purple sheets you swear straight
as the shadow ruled lines of louvered blinds
an unrelenting love.
Shot glass slammed
– tequila downed, salt sucked-
you muscle tomorrow on
splitting the leathery spines of books
free from their stale shelves
letting old words crawl with new
in the asymmetry of our lives
nuzzled briefly with night
as yet days are drawn longer with winter’s rheumy rack.
©2021 Jenny Middleton All rights reserved.
Jenny Middleton has written poetry throughout her life. Some of this is published in printed anthologies or on online poetry sites. Jenny is a working mum and writes whenever she can find stray minutes between the chaos of family life. She lives in London with her husband, two children and two very lovely, crazy cats. You can read more of her poems at her website https://www.jmiddletonpoems.com