Gilding The Lily

Someone put glasses on Gwendolyn

Her bust       A makeshift lost and found

I come to the statue with sparkling water

Tiny spiders dotting my skin

Cherry angioma       I sit on a bench

To get a break from the ghosts

Spiders on the railing furiously weaving

In the storm      In a fury

The eldest caught between panes

of the window above my desk

Spiders adhered to my phone screen

After I drop it on the balcony

Startled by your presence

To languish      In language

Conquered by all I can’t contain