black widow

she is safe.

she curls ink-dipped legs
under a picnic bench
in the utah desert
while the nylon shushing
and swishing of tent zippers
make their muted ruckus nearby.

she’s cozy;
the wood of the bench is warm.
the sky is an enormous gradient,
pink to blue to black.

the humans fear her.
she waits
until they’re asleep,
then weaves their dreams
with threads of breeze and starlight.

-

© 2024 nessa jasper