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Spider’s Web


By Phoebe Driscoll

i. Saw your face as in a dream,

All wide-eyed wonder and dirty magazines.

Miles to go, your voice a sad old map:

“Come summer, let’s head West.”


ii. My heavy thoughts were resurrection fern,

They reduced the land to cigarette ash.

And all the while, your web of sticky lies:

“In every life, a little rain.”


iii. Yet somewhere in the dusty corners of my walled-off heart,

The citrus smell of tangerines still brought me to my knees.

And all the while, a crumpled reel of silver tape:

“You have been my friend.”

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