I previously shared some Colette Bryce – a poem about the Troubles in Ireland in 1981 from her collection The Full Indian Rope Trick.
This poem is from her “newest” collection from Picador, Self-Portrait in the Dark (2008). She has a more recent pocket book from Donut Press – I’m sure I’ll share a poem from that one soon too.
I trapped a spider in a glass,
a fine-blown wineglass.
It shut around him, silently.
He stood still, a small wheel
of intricate suspension, cap
at the hub of his eight spokes,
inked eyes on stalks; alert,
sensing a difference.
I meant to let him go
but still he taps against the glass
all Marcel Marceau
in the wall that is there but not there,
a circumstance I know.
This poem inspired me to spend ages looking through photos of spiders and their eyes, as I was convinced they were NOT on stalks. I was correct. Bastard. Incidentally, I’ve shared poems about spiders before.