Her hair was not on fire…


Her hair was not on fire
But the sulphur swamped the mind
And even gentle mists
May saturate the mood
With toxins.
So when a clump of stubborn threads
Affixed its sticky self
To pant legs
What else could terror do
But flee an All-Star recluse
Brown, of course
At least three laps around
The living room and kitchen
In her mind.
The fastest spider ever
Ran as fast as Mary’s legs
Could travel.
Fear refused to contemplate
An insect blessed with strides
To rival hers.

So siblings watched and laughed
But did not offer help
When fabricated panic
Stretched its legs and drove
Their little sister through
A specter very real to her.

But then a brother finally imposed,
By offering resistance to the race.
He reached down to the hardwood floor
And snatched the hairy master
Of the chase.
Then laughing, offered up the ball of thread
To calm the grave concern inside her head.
Though brothers and their sisters giggled on
Far longer than the track meet kept its pace.



For Better or Verse — Poetry Month 2023 et al.

Philip J. Repko, Ian C. Repko, and Philip E. Repko have been fiddling with words for more than a few years. Here we shall periodically contribute.