I'm Only Doxxing You Because I Care
He has made an apartment where the ceiling / and wall meld like oceans.
by C.W. Bryan
You have time still, to escape with your
essentials. I only know one spider.
It will crawl to you slowly,
as a billion-dollar snail might.
He has made an apartment where the ceiling
and wall meld like oceans.
His place is lousy with cross-hatched whites,
with a fine sheer finish that glows
in the sunlight. At present, he is resting in a sunbeam
atop your W-2 that was mailed to me
on accident. He moves his wire-thin legs across
your typeset name, as if trying to learn
every serifed edge of you. I have named him Richard,
for his lion heart. The sun is setting, and he races
the shadows up the wall. He will come to you well rested,
eager. I told him how the mosquitoes love you,
and there is a hunger in his eyes. Pack lightly, my dear,
move swiftly—you said your life was boring so,
I have just released your address to every spider I know.
C.W. Bryan is the author of two books of poetry. A chapbook, Celine: An Elegy, and a full-length collection, No Bird Lives in my Heart. He writes everyday with his writing partner, Sam Kilkenny, at poetryispretentious.com. He also founded Poetry is Pretentious, an arts collective in Atlanta, Georgia that hosts live poetry readings and open mics.
