A spider bit me on the forearm this week.
My arm swelled up to the size of Texas,
with a white ring around the puncture.
In the hospital, they put me in a white room,
and connected me to an IV. The cold
medicine swam in my veins, squares
of neon light bouncing through my retina.
That is the last thing some people see
and feel before they die.
I hadn't thought about you in a long time,
anger surrounding the mention of your name,
but in my time of danger, you are the only
one I wanted to be there.
