CELL MATE

In the upper lefthand corner of my cell
beneath the roof of this weatherproof
concrete sky
a sly
and ever alert spider catnaps,

with one hairy hand on his web-fine fishing line
a patient fisherman
He awaits the signal announcing
the arrival of another foolish fly
Who is swimming carelessly into his ocean of air
has become ensnared in the fisherman’s net.

Yesterday I watched him
as he gracefully swung
from web-limb to web-limb
and eight-armed tarzan
trailing a vine of web behind.

Once he lost his hold and fell
a short distance into space
but his safety line held fast
and for a moment there
he was like a mountain climber dangling in midair
and I held my breath unti at last
he had pulled himself to shore
and I laughed aloud to see him stand
but he paid no attention to me
and acts as though he does not see
his potential enemy here below.

He sits behind his sticky desk
like a fat pompous official,
a tyrant who pictures to those below
and so
some day when his antics no longer amuse
and I have grown tired of his presence
his whole world will be swept away
with one swish of the broom
and this cell
which some call a room
will be more empty without him
and I shall regret my loss
because
he served me well
in that
he disposed of the flies I loathe.

But moreover
he is a compatible companion
quiet, clean, neat, undemanding
and doesn't occupy much space
and I think it's good that
he will never know what whim caused the stroke
that destroyed him.

I wonder would he be consoled
if he knew that I too
await my fate
and wonder
what broom will sweep me away,
and how soon....?
 

BY:AL CUNNINGHAM