Poetry

for the spider

                          whose swoll abdomen is laced with white

                          for the spider-cradling inside of a flower, to unclasp

for the archipelagos of fattened moss that barnacle the blue roof

for the rain licking unripe blackberries clustered in sacs of aphid green

for the lilac comb half blistered in copper

for the rank haunches of pregnant cows slick with shit, glittering in flies

for their spiralling proboscis

and the maggots like pearlescent commas

flexing unflexing

for god who is tending to our sadnesses

with a cold passion

for god is tending to us

for god

for

Amber Mcnamara