Sometimes I worry about my next life,
Even though this one has just begun.
I worry about the kids I fought on the playground,
The forgive-me roses I threw in the trash,
And how much I used to look down upon others
Before life pushed me into the dirt.
I worry I will be reincarnated as a spider.
Huntsman, Daddy-Longlegs, one of those that jump from wall to wall—
And that I will be squashed by my own splintery fingers,
The force breaking apart my legs and leaving me stuck to the bottom of a flip-flop.
The woman will look down at me,
The woman who’s trying to be better,
And she’ll tell me she’s sorry
Before scraping my tangled limbs on the side of the trash.
Maybe if I paid more attention in class,
Ignored less calls from my mother,
Or maybe if I stopped killing spiders.
Photo by Vitaliy Shevchenko on Unsplash
