Arachne Revisited

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

And Darjeeling which is supposed to be like a light 

spring dance 

is bitter and cruel in my mouth. 

And I feel betrayed by my body's own humble 

machinations 

and I seem not to grow more wise with time. 

I no longer have any quarrel with Arachne. 

She's not the only dumb cunt here. 

I thought I held something in my hand, 

once, too, 

I thought I owned 

and never do. 

Arachne: I am tired. 

Grief is a long country mile. 

Arachne, I am insufferably bad at 

almost everything. 

I forgive you, trapped behind a canvas,

looking like a lover (there's your trouble.)

Can you forgive me? 

I never meant it