There’s a spider living
at the base of my
spine.
Threads criss-
cross the
house of my
bones.
Its nest
dangles
from my coccyx.
In the morning
on the road in the dark
it swells behind me like
an undiscovered moon.
I can’t see
into the light or
outrun it.
jms xuange writes poems of quiet perception and inward motion. Their work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Midway Journal, and Rogue Agent. They explore how light, memory, and silence shape what remains after language.