By Tom Probasco
Wiping up crumbs the same size
on the counter and around
the edge of the kitchen sink,
I knocked him in and nearly
washed him down.
While I tended to the table,
he ascended the enamel wall.
Then once again
I knocked him in,
watched him draw up into a ball.
He stretched out his legs and started back up
the side he’d already scaled.
With my finger I ensured his success.
I think of it as the sparing
of a little spider that almost failed.
Tom Probasco has had poems published in the Northwest Indiana Literary Journal, the INverse Poetry Archive, and in several Indiana Writers Center publications, including Flying Island. In addition to writing the occasional poem, he plays harmonica in the Indianapolis band True North.