The Bridge of Spiders 
(Auvillar, France)

People used to fish
on the Garonne, 
but industry has risen 
through the moonlight 
into girders
lit by incandescent lamps.

Thousands of leggy workers
weave and mend nets
for the hunt.
Between the trappers 
and their prey 
affinities exist:      

Webs mesh with midges
like fishermen with fish,
continual darts 
of light!  Arachnids
entertain us, though they don’t
mean to.  We look through
frail geometries and think
how handsome the fabric,
how homely the weaver!

Their tipsy polygons 
are not doilies but deathtraps 
set in the night.

Next morning, the place
is deserted. Filaments 
and uneaten morsels
hang in mid-air. The feast
was too much for the feasters.
Where have they gone
to sleep it off?