It Bites to Be the Black Widow

I love spiders.
You can thank my brother for that.
I chase down black widows,
with a flashlight and a bottle of soapy water;
you can thank my father for that.
I may have even chosen Black Widow as a nickname for myself,
back in college,
signifying that I seemed to kill every good relationship that I had
- which left me feeling both black (depressed) and widowed (lonely).

It hurts though, to have James,
week after week,
picking 7 spiders,
and the spider signifying me is always the

BIG, BLACK, ugly black widow,

who towers over everyone else.

Is that really how he sees me?

A monster that scares everyone away?

Positive Note?

He did give the black widow a home this week,

a large, plastic spider web.

Mama Black Widow loomed on her web,

her little darling spiders gathered around her,

with one spider lost, adrift, and far from the "happy" spider family

- a solitary spider, alone

in its' corner of the sand tray.

I'm sorry, James.

I'm sorry that you feel alone.

Mama Spider wants you to come home,

safe, secure, and attached to the web.

I promise I won't eat you.

And can I please be a Wolf Spider instead?

A BIG, STRONG Mama Wolf Spider,

that carries her babies,

ALL of her babies on her back.

I love you, James.