I only discovered the web once I was home, washing my hands, and looked into
the mirror to see its delicate lattice draping my dark hair like a white veil, as if I
had just come from a church wedding, rather than a stroll in the forest, which is
nature’s cathedral, but I had profaned its sanctity, carelessly torn away some
sacred spider’s arduous spinning, perhaps even stolen her dinner, leaving her
exhausted and hungry, so I lifted the fine silk from my head carefully, laid it on
the sink counter where it hung deflated over the edge, where it hangs still months
later, like a prayer book overturned, saved open to the page of the daily psalm that
begs forgiveness.