Un-

Up the dust floats;

motes unsettling

from the mantel,

aerifying.

 

In the corner the spider

unweaves her web;

the silk unspun,

drawn within.

 

Scrawled red wax

on the walls lifts;

unscribbles

her short story.

 

Her teddybear's nose

unkisses itself;

each unkiss a tiny stitch

resewn.

 

She burrows deep

into my womb,

umbilicising herself,

quiescing.

 

The dust settles.

The spider spins.