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Writer's pictureEmily Corwin

McKenzie Zalopany

Spider, Baby

I worry a spider

will climb into

my vagina

lay eggs & leave

no note text consent

making me a daddy

long-legged widower.

She could’ve died

after laying

them her prosoma

puckered inside,

crisp.

Legs in the air,

spiderlings scuttling

out silk beds by her

body out my body

in warm Spring.

I’d raise them,

all sixty to six hundred.

People will say I’m brave.

They’ll think I was asking for it,

should’ve worn undies,

prayed more,

washed my makeup off,

mulched the backyard.

The babies only live a year or two

& I’d hold their tiny coffins made

from cedar & pine tree bark

six centimeters below sand.

Mourn the babies

but still feel her

inside.

Her body would remain

until my human baby

pushs her out

an egg I’d lay

on my own.


McKenzie Zalopany is a creative writing student at the University of South Florida. In 2017, she received the Estelle J. Zbar award for her poem, Cat Call. Her work has appeared in Five:2:One Magazine and Funny in Five Hundred.

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