I flushed a spider down the toilet.
Its long legs tried to climb up the side,
As if begging for mercy.
I pushed the lever anyways –
Its limbs curled up against its body,
As it drowned in the water.
It vanished down the hole –
Gone forever.
But the memory is left behind,
As if it’s breathing; alive.
It’s all I could think about –
Why did I kill it?
Did I fear a tiny creature –
No bigger than my fingernail?
What if I was the spider and it drowned me –
Just for simply existing?
I held a funeral for the spider in the bathroom.
The toilet seat down, red rose on top,
– I imagined its favorite flower –
Both my dogs stared from the doorway,
Joining my sorrow.
The soft rain sprayed the window,
The sky mourned the wrongful death –
Of my eight-legged friend