I Was Only Kidding About the Spider Who Could Not Die

I was only kidding
about the spider
who could not die.
But you were so taken
with the idea
of an infinite web,
I couldn't let the truth
disappoint you.

I lead you to the garden,
where we put our bodies flat
on the dirt and remain still,
until we take root.
Then, the spider comes,
bustling down the row,
Nudging a fresh kill,
gift-wrapped in silk,
with its wire legs.

Up and over my forearm,
the spider drags its spoils,
then disappears,
into the soft, tilled ground.