A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck 
of the house. From there I could see and hear the water, 
and everything that's happened to me all these years. 
It was hot and still. The tide was out. 
No birds sang. As I leaned against the railing 
a cobweb touched my forehead. 
It caught in my hair. No one can blame me that I turned 
and went inside. There was no wind. The sea 
was dead calm. I hung the cobweb from the lampshade. 
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath 
touches it. A fine thread. Intricate. 
Before long, before anyone realizes, 
I'll be gone from here. 


Anonymous submission.