Although traces of silk remain,
I’ve not seen my spider confidant in days.

She’d often greet me at the printer’s table,
and once, only inches away, admonished me

from a manila folder containing drafts.
I do not speak the language of spiders,

but surely some ideas fall beyond words,
and our conversations, though one-sided

at both ends, offered consistency
in companionship. I wonder if she’s migrated

to another backyard shack, perhaps an artist’s
studio or gardener’s shed, one with better

opportunities in prey selection or talk. Even
seeing each other daily, we’ve led such separate lives.

Robert Okaji is a displaced Texan living in Indiana. A half-Japanese U.S. Navy veteran, he holds a BA in history and once won a goat-catching contest. The author of five chapbooks, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in North Dakota Quarterly, Crannóg, Vox Populi, Eclectica, Otoliths and elsewhere.