Tiny red spiders
explore freckled
landscape,
ground like any other,
and I shake like the earth.
Upon closer inspection,
I discover dozens.
They get tangled up
in peachfuzz
and roses
and bite when
the wind of my breath
throws them off.
I feel guilty, so I stop.
I no longer
recognize my skin
so I let them have it.
They can have it,
running late,
running nowhere.
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