Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-nine
Winter 2015
Spiders and Jam
Kristin LaTour

I don’t blame you for filling my bed with arachnids’ hairy
bodies; most ran when I turned back the sheets.

They reminded me of how I refuse to speak out when
I see a child slapped as a scolding, a dog tied up in the sun.

Remind me again why I stay, why calamine lotion reminds
me of flowers. How when the tv shows a bloodstain

in an Afghani market, my toes twitch, I smell dirt and taste rain.
What could possibly take me away from here and the foothills?

Certainly not spiders, thirst, a red hand print on my cheek.
Maybe rain. Maybe blood. Maybe the jam choking my throat.

About Kristin LaTour

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