At This Very Moment

I lay in bed staring at my ceiling with dread
A huge spider lingers there just over my head
He plunges down fast, I cry out—I actually bellow
Inhuman sounds escape from my soul
As I watch his descent and I lose all control
Disbelief as he lands, diving deep in my hair—my leggy bedfellow

Panic is a funny thing, when it’s not you
This irrational fear of spiders, is nothing new
It’s not new for the world, and it’s certainly not new for me
I run as I rake through my hair doubled over
Performing this dance which is known the world over
It’s called where the hell can this big spider be

Hot water pelts down hard from my shower
I tremble, I scrub, I cry and I cower
There is no sign whatsoever of the fiend who I hate
I am trying to calm myself down now 
I breathe, dry off, dress, disavow
The idea that even now— he is laying in wait 

I add a new item to my agenda for today
I pick up the phone, I dial it, I say:
“I need to sell my house”— my children are smirking
They feel sure I am over reacting
Because subtracting
The fact that in my bed an arachnid is lurking 

This is not a practical time to sell
And who am I kidding—I can not be well
There are spiders in every dwelling
I put down the receiver
And look just past the meat cleaver
Toward the vacuum—I am cleaning, I am not selling


The Daily Post, January 2, 2016, Daily Prompt: Write Here, Write Now~ Write a post entirely in the present tense.<a href=””>Write Here, Write Now</a>

3 thoughts on “At This Very Moment

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