‘A Spider in My Room’ and Other Poetry by Radhika Bianchi

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A Spider in My Room

In the corner, there’s a spider
Between the ceiling and the wall.
Its legs are long, its body small,
Seeing it there my eyes grow wider,

Fearing it to be the kind
Of spider I’ve been warned about.
I swallow back a piercing shout
And try to see the telltale line

On its back that makes it look
Like a tiny violin.
But the line, so very thin,
Evades my eyes in that dark nook.

I do not dare approach too near,
Anxious it might jump on me,
So stripy legs I cannot see,
Nor the six eyes that I fear.

Is the deadly Brown Recluse
Or its gentle predator—
The Tiger Spider—by my door?
I just can’t tell. Oh, it’s no use!

But just as I decide, it seems,
To kill the spider anyway,
With a fatal blast of spray,
I remember several dreams

Wherein I, like a fighter,
Lost in labyrinthine halls,
On bloodied knees and elbows crawled,
Followed by a giant spider.

Now, as I turn my gaze behind,
I’m tormented by the doubt:
Is it there to help me out?
It doesn’t move and I’m inclined

To think that maybe I mistook
The chilling semblance of its skin
For its character within.
But then it speaks and I am shook

By these eerie words I hear:
“Tranquil you will never be
Because you came from inside me,
And I exist in you, my dear.

But you are, sadly, too obtuse;
The truth you run from and ignore—
That you and I, down to the core,
Are both the Tiger and Recluse—

Means you abhor your darker themes;
Just look at how you crawl away,
Trying to keep my touch at bay,
So, I come to you in dreams.”

Before the monster gets away
I squeeze the can and spray, and spray!
And though the spider falls, reduced,
I fill my room with toxic juice.

I stumble out and slam the door,
Coughing, hands and knees to floor,
To the bathroom, wash my tears,
And when I glance up at the mirror

In horror, I jump back to see
Six beady eyes staring at me!
I blink and take another look,
Confirmed: my face her likeness took,

And limbs increased from four to eight.
Forlorn, I mourn my beastly fate.
Now I see without a doubt
The truth in what she spoke about.

When, again, in dreams I spy her
In her nest, I crawl beside her.
Cradling me ever tighter,
She whispers, “Incy, Wincy Spider.”

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A Sonnet for My Sister

Like waves breaking on a sandy shore,
You come and go. You wash your love o’er me
Then quickly draw away; the gritty floor
Beneath shows tiny skeletons in your sea.

My fault, in part: my little shadow, who
I scorned to please my friends (in time I learned
You were my truest one). You grew into
My foe; in violently volcanic fights we burned.

Though poles apart we’re bound through blood; our veins
Entwine, our hearts reach out and can’t let go.
Our youthful joy and heartache still remains
In lamps of memory I keep aglow.

As scars fade away with time, we’ll face
And shed our heavy past in our embrace.

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Young Girl in Bluebell Woods

Deep in the springtime woods dappled with sunlight I
Wandered, quietly gathering daffodils.
Blossoms were sprouting on moss-covered trees over
Bluebells that carpeted whispering woodland hills.

Glistening dewdrops, aroma of humid earth,
Primeval ferns fanned in flourishing multitudes,
Buzzing of bugs through the spotlights of sun and the
Singsong of birds filled the sweet, silent solitude.

Dreaming of fairies, imagining magical
Creatures of beauty and heart-aching loveliness
Dancing and singing, surrounding, embracing me,
Taking away my long-hungering loneliness.

Quietly, pensively, gathering daffodils,
I gazed up at canopies, watched the birds fly.
I took a deep breath and stood perfectly still,
Wondering why I felt empty inside.

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Radhika Bianchi lives in Santiago, Chile (her mother’s birthplace) and is an artist and English teacher. She was raised in Los Angeles, California.