a turned-over hourglass

oh spider giant, oh hourglass
she, bearing herself, spits the sweat of her back
over her surroundings
like some cloudy, even plateglass

her hieroglyph back arched
her great woven skin
full of moving herselves
blows open and they, exploding out
expand her
like providence from God

and the little not-god
has her sliver legs
destroyed
by some vast volume of thumb
as if God
left only providence behind

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