see how that spider
weaves its hanging home
over our bed
would we could stretch
a place to live out of
ourselves like that
if I could weave you
such a place to be
(to be—that threadbare
verb) whatever corner
you might choose
over whatever space
to wring the dew
the dust like that hang out
the morning’s lines
or if I for myself
could weave a little place
all gossamer in rooms
you go to now as yet
unseen to be with you
if only so
transparently around
what surer scheme
or livingplace
could either of us have
what other space
but specsized
emptiness in this
winking moteworld
could hold
the strands of us
James Dunnigan is a poet from Montreal, editor for Cactus Press and PhD student at the University of Toronto, the author of two chapbooks, The Stained Glass Sequence (Frog Hollow Press chapbook award, 2019) and Wine and Fire (Cactus Press 2020). A recipient of a QWF Fiction award for 'Open Bay' (2014), he also has appeared, or is forthcoming in, such places as Event, Contemporary Verse 2, Maisonneuve and Graphite Publications. Aut facere scribenda aut scriber legenda since 1994.
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