There between your stubbled chin
& the shoulder pocked by adolescence
is my place, my hollow;
where muscle & sinew meet
The eight-legged spider mocks me
with all eight of its eyes,
And descends from its corner of the ceiling.
At last, we bow, empty of bitterness.
Let it drift, cleanse, rinse.
Wash with peaceful caress--
Body of water.
My palms break my fall and separate
To make room for tiny pieces of gravel
that find a home in my hands,