by Raquel Milosavljevic
the spiders always seem to come
at the first sigh,
the first mooning,
when the water pipes
rumble like a stomach
and I am finally still. they crawl
into my room
like spilled marbles, I see
them rolling onto the floor
out of the corner of my eye.
they don’t shy from teeth
or wince at voices, they
are not owls nor salamanders, they
are a hundred years old,
they are always
moving towards me,
never around me, only
finding me
like I am a weight
in the centre of the room.
Raquel Milosavljevic is an emerging writer from Vancouver, BC Canada who recently graduated from Simon Fraser University. By day, she is an avid reader who writes poetry and short stories. Her work has been published in several Canadian anthologies and also individually online at PoetryNation.com. By night, she is a professional tarot card reader who is heavily involved in the spiritual community.