the spider and the snake

There’s a big ol spider that lives over New York Scurrying from Brooklyn to the Bronx, or Manhattan to Long Island His web is woven in crisscross, Strong black seams that stretch all over Creating eternal hotspots for fat spiteful pigeons or landmarks that speak of home No one tries to knock him down Not the people, not the earth, not even the silver snake that slides by his webs day in and day out. Night and day. He slips beneath the carefully laid wires Avoiding the trap made for airplanes or helicopters He dives deep in dark damp tunnels pops above, to lick up the last lingers of light when night falls, and black spider threads become invisible