Gedicht
Colette Bryce
A Spider
A Spider
A Spider
I trapped a spider in a glass,a fine-blown wineglass.
It shut around him, silently.
He stood still, a small wheel
of intricate suspension, cap
at the hub of his eight spokes,
inked eyes on stalks; alert,
sensing a difference.
I meant to let him go
but still he taps against the glass
all Marcel Marceau
in the wall that is there but not there,
a circumstance I know.
© 2008, Colette Bryce
From: Self-Portrait in the Dark
Publisher: Picador, London
From: Self-Portrait in the Dark
Publisher: Picador, London
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A Spider
I trapped a spider in a glass,a fine-blown wineglass.
It shut around him, silently.
He stood still, a small wheel
of intricate suspension, cap
at the hub of his eight spokes,
inked eyes on stalks; alert,
sensing a difference.
I meant to let him go
but still he taps against the glass
all Marcel Marceau
in the wall that is there but not there,
a circumstance I know.
From: Self-Portrait in the Dark
A Spider
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