Become draft

I took a wolf spider in for my own,

named it and watched it grow,

as I used to watch caterpillars;

I wished to behold metamorphosis.

I would adore each furry individual in one form

climbing up netted walls or my finger, in another

still as the twig it rested its naked body from, and finally,

as it emerged, abandoning the chrysalis,

just another grave. I longed for that state

as a child, to hibernate and then become.

I waited in my eggshell

and ate bones, attempting to harden.

Bones turned to rusty steel and my eyes

fell into the bank of the river searching

for a relevant undertow.

Was it a mistake? Crawling into the graves

might have been easier, more restful

I could've found the dirt blanket,

tucked myself in like the earth

I knew I was.