J. Kramer Hare

Paths are blurred and boundaries
soft in this landscape of cobwebs,

smoke suffused. A scent
I savor cautiously: to catch

that spice in a forest signals
either other people’s presence or

immediate danger. Sometimes both.
To set a fire here—(note

I don’t say light)—to set
a fire here may show

momentarily the glint
of onyx of the spider’s orbed back,

eight pinpoints marking
eight eyes, her web’s topography.

But smoke is night’s accomplice,
and anything gossamer makes

good kindling.

J Kramer Hare (he/him) hails from Pittsburgh, PA. He is a rock-climber, jazz-head, Best of the Net nominee, and volunteer critic with Pencilhouse. Look for his latest work in Rust and Moth, Magpie Zine, and the Dawn Review. You can find him at kramerpoetry.com.