arachnophile

there are these gyres in me    
where mistakes twirl and swirl around
the ones i haven't learned from  
   
maybe one day    
i'll have more than two eyes
   
we could talk about lurid things    
or love and connection  
and i could watch all eight of your legs  
splay open like a ruptured rib cage
   
grisliness    
is second    
   
only to charm