The wolf spider gestured to me from across the tub, unfurling four legs from behind the metal cover obscuring overflow drain to greet me, naked and alone in a foot of bath water. This memory stands in isolation, as remote memories of a young child often are. The memory itself creeps from a drain, simply…
Tag: coronavirus
ONE POEM – Peter Hebden
Tuesday
morning with no people, no cars
only today there are no people,
no cars. Today it’s weird, isn’t it?