webs collect
in the shadowed corner
above my head
over my desk
i try not to disturb them
no arachnid artifice
no dried up husks
offered as proof
of services rendered
for peaceful coexistence
just a little electrical charge
a little dust
tracked in from outside
some dead skin cells
the hair from the dogs or
maybe the cat who even now
tries to claw her way
up my leg to settle in my lap
or purring against my chest
these are atomic ancestors
descendants yet unborn
related not by dna
but by nuclear half-life
electron clouds
vibrating strings
no ashes for me after death
for i have spent my life
spreading myself generously
with every itch scratched
and every casual exhalation
Words and Feathers 