The spiders in my basement are fat
From the flies I trick down there.
Bellies so round I wonder how those eight thin legs
Manage to support them,
allow them to move so quickly.
My brother asks me why I bother.
If the flies annoy me so much
I should kill them myself,
Take nature in my hands.
But he only has one
Long, thin leg.
I turn on fluorescent bulbs strategically,
Make a labyrinth that leads to webs.
Leave drops of lavender and peppermint in my wake.
Keep everything gross down there, in the cellar
Don’t let it see the light of day.
Insects have six limbs, and arachnids eight.
My brother, however, only has one human leg.
I wonder how many fly and spider legs it would take
For me to trade. If I could braid a million tiny insect
Legs together and fill the negative space
Between my brother
And the floor.