Poet as Tarantula

Silken syllables of protein from what is ingested,
trauma in other words, other words in other words,
little spilled in spinning.

Born from undersides, a certain kind of discretion,
until there it is, wind juddered and fine; wing-spans,
attention-spans,

be-shortened by buzz and other glittered things.
Dodging everyday thermals, they wisely fly past
poet as tarantula,

poem as waste.

Author’s note on this POSSESSION-themed poem:
What would possess you to be a poet?

Ewen Glass is a screenwriter and poet from Northern Ireland who lives with two dogs, a tortoise and a body of self-doubt; his poetry has appeared in the likes of Okay Donkey, Maudlin House, HAD, Poetry Scotland and One Art Poetry. Bluesky/X/IG: @ewenglass