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,
my own project
taking precedence.
Telling myself that I was
But the truth is
I couldn’t bear
to watch her waste away.

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About the Author

Catherine Buercklin is a contemporary poet who enjoys collaborating with other writers and artists. She’s a sucker for anything covered in chocolate and refuses to choose sides in the coffee vs. tea debate, as she loves them both equally. She feels most at home sitting outside watching birds and imagining what it’s like to live under a mushroom.  She lives in Conway with her banjo-lovin’ husband, Aaron, and her feisty, but loveable cat, Winnifred.

Catherine Buercklin
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