Spider-Stitched

Framed by splintering antlers,

The head of a moose,

Stares from the wall,

Suspended to scrutinize,

With glass eyes alive.

He’s authorized to keep watch,

When I am sitting or reading on my own.

As I organize my hair,

Into floral arrangements on the pillowcase,

He’s alert from above.

I carry him with me, from home to school to the street,

I nail him to the foreheads of friends,

To have someone to talk to in the intervals when,

They blink and glance away.

I could be content to send him off,

To a shelf in the attic.

And live alone at long last, unattended,

But I depend on all four of our eyes.

I rely on his habit of reminding,

Through spider-stitched lips,

When it’s time to brush my hair,

Powder my face, and smile.