All entries for Wednesday 02 July 2014

Spider Bites

Studying the prickling heat on his skin,

Imagining each spot of pain to be spider bites,

Pricking flesh and spilling not quite blood

but a liquid coloured at the edge of it.

He felt no appetite, for there were no apples

Like those apples he tasted that afternoon,

He had never tasted apples like those.

Not before nor since.

There were never apples like that again

And the sun beats down on his forgetfulness

And memory seems shattered:

The smell of rain, fresh on the stone

Of paving slabs and steps beside the lawn

Where he ran on the wet grass and fell:

He fell more than he should

but it did not matter.

Samuel Dodson : 02 Jul 2014 12:52 |  Tags: Poem Poetry |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem