itsy-bitsy spider

birth of venus

water: from whence we came
let us go back to that moment before
we learned our mouths had other uses
sweet air on our tongues, gills flat and impotent
trapped in the ocean’s filmy membrane

down came the rain

foul furred creature damp and furious
tangle of legs in jumbled crawl
she swam, he curled up and sank
(why carry an hour-glass
when your time has run out?)
up the water-spout again, then
eight eyes only mean more tears to cry

bone dry

the widow watches the teacup’s lake
through milk-cloudy water to the leaves below
still surface, is she still ill?
she cannot bring herself to drink
and the warmth of the tea soon drains into her hands

abandoned lands

a lagoon; sometime in the future
where the waters lie silent and peacock blue
strange. leave, and barely a ripple remains
but fall in and it shatters

By E. M. Roy

Biography:

E. M. Roy is a British-Indian poet currently living between Singapore and Pennsylvania. Her work centres around loss, colonisation and third-culture identity. She can be found on Instagram at @emroypoet.”