…both started this morning and, in the wake of today’s neural collisions, completed as I lay in bed this evening pulling at my edges, urging myself back to equilibrium.
So here it is, as yet untitled:
I greet the day naked, soul bared even as my flesh clothes itself in the hot tendrils of a shower. Cool, cedar-tinged air flows in through the open window. A wood spider has been busy overnight, weaving a fine mesh from window to face cloth to conditioner bottle and tighter still within the frame.
I ruin its efforts with handfuls of water, flung as though I am pitching for the Redsox. I saw it last night, and yesterday morning, too, up at the edge between the ceiling and the wall, pale green and waiting. This morning the only evidence of its presence was the web. It made me think of Clotho.
Wrapped in yellow, warm and wishing for coffee, I attend to the drying and lifting of limbs, the glide of deodorant in pursuit of curved underarm. I admire, briefly, the small parts of myself that I bear witness to and incrementally appreciate more as time passes. Some parts ask to be admired, since the whole is so difficult to embrace fully, little curves that a Conté crayon would swoop in if it were to capture this fleeting monument to human form.
(c) 2013 Adriane Giberson