A Fractured Deity

The sun serves as a formidable pair of eyes

a peerless audience

helpful,

in a way -

though I keep my gaze cast low.

I let the sun see my bare shoulders,

blue veins,

poppyseed legs.

I stare down at some ants -

economical, frantic, busy.

I wanted to tell someone about them.

Their delicate trails,

precarious homes.

The sun watched me

and I watched them -

a fractured deity.

The sun is an exigent audience.

I no longer allow myself to bask in its aura,

in lethargy.

But I will soak up its vivid doses -

in pieces.

I picture my body full of cracks,

the sun's rays shining through them,

my shadow casting patterns.

Summer,

in its yearly act,

begins to lift the curtain -

from faintness to fervor.

I wait...

Find myself startled,

when mid-meal,

an infantile spider graces my plate.

With cup and paper,

I carry it away,

set it loose on the porch rail.

But it remained still...

beneath an overbearing sun.

I leveled my face to its miniature plane

and stared into eight microscopic eyes.