Three Months and Three Days

Poetry / By / / 1 minute of reading
Wet Spider Web
Spider Web Photo by Martyn Wright via Flickr Creative Commons
In a malarial heat
the dogs
are on the leash
pulling and pulling me
through the mud
saddled path. Early morning.
Until you died
I unknowingly
believed I’d always
have a ride
home. And a home.
Spider webs in
the wild berry bushes,
white with dew, look
like trapped parachutes
dropped through the night
in a time of war.
Caught like that you’d
have to knife your
way through the ropes:
suspended, dangling
far from the ground
in a halter cutting
into your arm pits.
There’s no ride home
from this, you have
to find your own way.

 

About The Author

Michael J Carter is a poet and clinical social worker. A graduate of Sarah Lawrence College he holds an MFA from Vermont College and an MSW from Smith. Poems of his have appeared in such journals as Boulevard, Ploughshares, Provincetown Arts Magazine, Western Humanities Review, among many others. He lives with his two hounds and spends his time swimming and knitting.
Scroll to Top