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.

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Lana Hechtman Ayers, MFA, has shepherded over eighty poetry collections into the world in her role as managing editor at three small presses. Her poems have appeared in Rattle, Escape Into Life, Verse Daily, and The Poet’s Café, as well as in her nine published collections. She lives on the Oregon coast in a town of more cows than people. Visit her online at LanaAyers.com.

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