Transitory Space, Nova Scotia, Canada, #379 Blue — Leah Oates
THE ROADTRIP BEGAN WITH A MONUMENTAL ACT OF DESTRUCTION
— Adriana Rewald
Overnight a spider had strung its web
between the curb bush and my passenger
mirror. I saw how it caught cloudbreak,
stalled it, let it loose in sequins as I rounded
the hood, shifting angles smoothly, my arms
full of baggage. To drive away now would be
to stretch those strands to snapping. The sun
rose fast and the spider was light on my mind.
When I started the car I thought briefly about
getting out, using a stick to conduct a gentle
detachment, ensure I didn’t accidentally abscond
to Michigan with a Virginian arachnid hitched
to my fender. But a good song came on
and my GPS zeroed in so I pulled out, casually
ripping silk to follow a snaky blue trail across
four states. Sun hit all my windows roundly,
I bought fast food and surfed radio swatches
of Midwest Jesus country, no thought lent
to the small Southern spider whose homespun
efforts were long blown into the past, the small
possibility that it now hid in the rain-sluice cracks
of my car door, holding on for dear future.