here in the house where i grew up
i clear the spiders
out of the unused shower
gently lifting them
from the drain
some dangle from an ephmeral web
while others dance across my hand and
onto the windowsill laid with dirt and dust
their cobwebs fill the corners of the rooms
traces of paths crossed and recrossed
like the filament
do you think houses remember?
hold the past gently as you would a spider
saved from the drain