8/5/17 2:42pm
Wolf House

The summer before I moved to California I was running.
Found myself working on a ranch for a writer well known
for his book about Indians, titled from a name by the Sioux.
Dry, sandy, Arizona ranch nestled against red desert mountain
watching monsoon storms pour in across the tops of peaks.
Wild horses wandering through the terrain
tossing their heads and blinking glossy black eyes.

Each night I spoke softly to the spider above my bed
gave him a name meaning “wanderer”.
We had a silent agreement that when nightfall came I would find him
dancing in his wispy web.
Protecting my slumber
Corner dancer, shadow friend.
And he kept his promise.

Someone told me to be careful,
he was poisonous,
one bite would send me shrieking to the hospital
the closest one, two hours away;
But I had learned how to talk to dangerous things
how to form relationships with venom.
He taught me that what we fear can sometimes surprise us.