August 7, 2023

Spiderwebs gleam on my window,

spider friends sleep,

their feet clinging to the homes they crafted

out of silk and dreams.


A breeze comes, and the spiders sway

in their homes, and I fear they’re being plucked,

their feet slipping across threads like a finger

picking guitar strings—but they


keep clinging, and the web

never breaks.


If they lived inside in my window, I would kill them

because I am cruel and human and they

are hated and feared.


It must be worth it to them,

to bear the weight of mankind’s disgust.

Otherwise, why be so resilient?


Or, instead, do spiders cry as they cling to their unbreakable homes,

tears the translucent color of their webs,

too small for me to see?


I wonder if seeing those tears would convince me that I do not wish to be a spider.


Darby Brown is an emerging writer and poet from Nashville, TN. She has recently completed her MA in creative writing at the University of Birmingham in England and now lives in London where she continues to fall in love with the way words and stories can lead us toward a greater understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In addition to being a monthly contributor for HYW, she serves as an editorial intern. Follow her on Instagram @darbybrownwrites.


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