I tried to save a spider
from my station
where I was working
with nails and hammers;
wooden splinters flying.
How was I to know
dust would overpower her?
That she’d be stuck
in a web of my own neglect?
She stayed fast to the window,
clinging to a light
she couldn’t taste.
And I turned back,
hastily,
my own project
taking precedence.
Telling myself that I was
busy.
But the truth is
I couldn’t bear
to watch her waste away.