Arachne to Athena

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I took a challenge from a pair of resilient hands. 

You claimed to want to stop 

Our tapestries bleeding into each other, 

Avoid some plagiarist sin. 

I think you really meant to hide my loom 

Away in the attic–

Shadowed, cobwebbed. 

You wanted to stitch into my skin 

Draw thin red strings from the scratches,

Pinch and extinguish 

The candle-like side of the mind 

That wishes to meet its own boundaries 

Burn through them, even. 

You pinched the flame; it did not singe you. 

I waited, with darting glances, to create. 

The hot core of the earth 

Held me still in my threadbare seat. 

Needle-eyes glinted as you told me to

Begin, begin, begin 

And I began. 

Your strained gaze,

Blue as an unknown planet

And fixed as tradition 

Lay – heavy – over me. 

I could not breathe or steady my pulse. 

Why must the perfected and wild-eyed

Be quiet when noise is needed most? 

Unmoving 

When a hand on the shoulder 

Would bring the earth with it? 

The image is completed. 

You see it over my shoulder 

And hold your tongue, until

‘You have lost, you have lost’ 

Echoes out from you. 

One hand, one arm, wraps around me.

The arm becomes love 

Becomes hate 

Becomes a web.

Eight ungodly legs burst from me. 

The world spins through my many eyes.

I am small 

Encased by a web that once was you 

Might still be you 

Or me 

Or both.