Poem: Hidden Spider

Finding the Hidden Spider

I thought myself master of my classroom,
ruler of its small domain —
setter of patterns, keeper of lore,
shower of secrets.

Then, clearing out a bookshelf
for a slender volume lost,
I found a book of poems not sought,
largely forgotten, believed lost,
jammed inside a battered Scripture
where it bent a bookmark
and three pages of Job.

While students bickered,
I opened Tony Brown’s Spark,
to find a pale white spider drawing
lines of paler gossamer across
the poet’s grammar.

Even in this room I pretend to rule,
ten thousand things occur that
I do not understand.

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