Argiope catenulata
Orb weaver spider
Rick Marlatt
Come stretch beside me inside the cool
spheres of our shadows
before the light yawns over this summit
before we catch a little
glimpse of the funny stones littered along our path.
Let me read the turquoise laughter
riddled behind your broken clocks whose tiny
wheels have never lied.
When we were kids you prayed upside down
your knees curled around a monkey bar
your hair reaching for colors in the gravel
your gum inflating into a cherry orb
your fingers tracing over the rest of us
locking us into your rhythms.
Dancing upon the peak of all things
from somewhere underneath.
This is where you spun your songs
this is where you snagged me.
And today the morning is vanishing
today we are 40.
Today we ride this spectral strange and familiar
still hovering above and perpendicular
cradled inside a sharp fist rising hard
out of a screaming desert.
Today I peel your ponytail holders
from my elbow
I pull blonde strings from the bruised spine
of my book about secretive plants.
With our fingers wound together we are headed
wherever the sun nudges us
our simple eyes cutting through the distance
ignoring our thirst for the softest rain.
~~~~~
Rick Marlatt is an assistant professor of English Language Arts and Literacy at New Mexico State University. His recent work has appeared in numerous publications such as The New York Quarterly, Rattle, and Anthropology & Education Quarterly. His three chapbooks of poetry include How We Fall Apart, winner of the Seven Circle Press Poetry Award, Desired Altitude, winner of the Standing Rock Cultural Arts Poetry Prize, and November Father from Finishing Line Press.