By K. Shawn Edgar
High window in the bathroom
I see a spider living there
Above our shower and tub
Its corner web framed by the windowsill
Each silky line, milky white, collecting sunbeams
And storing moisture from the shower head’s waterfall
In the bedroom, Sebastian is sleeping in a rectangle of light
It’s his early afternoon spot on the bed
And he tucks his nose under a warm polydactyl paw
And his snores sound like a tiny muted sonar
His breath is linked with my heartbeat
For he was there when I was not complete
From the couch I watch for the good people
But don’t see them on the TV show
Mr. Pants is camping on the dryer in the sleeping bag
Twitching legs and whiskers show, he’s leaping in the grass
Trying hard to bite a squirrel’s ass
Even deep in the aether of dreams his large talons are out
The music plays and Jack Johnson sings the positive words
I dance a crazy dance on our kitchen floor
Bare-toed feet, stick-leg pants, my hood pulled low
Hands up, loosely swaying, eyes down, nearly closed
My bone-toe shuffle mixes banana pancakes over the linoleum
As my mind memorizes each conspicuous bundle of swirling dust
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