Check the Sheets For Spiders

In the mother's house
built around our heads like a garland
across our arms like the satin
edging of wide-woven blanket
the girls whip the sheets to wake spiders
beat the pillows against the walls
and promise to wake while the windows are still blue
the father roams and stacks his boots
steel worn as dull as leather
and leather worn as thin as words that count
he stacks pale dishes above their rims with food
passes it around, settles, then dusted
away again by words, like gnats from the garden
the mother, the mother
checks our crowns for thistles
and beetles, repeating the lists
of things that chew shotgun holes
in the night, things that hide
she traces careful incisions with her beak
on the napes of our necks
remember, remember
to check the sheets for spiders

may 24, 12