The Spider in the Closet

By Anthony Palma   She didn’t move when I nudged her leg, she spinning, suspended from her own web. There are millions of spiders in the world, and her death was largely unnoticed, but to starve to death alone in a closet. I imagine her building her web and settling into the middle, waiting for … Continue reading The Spider in the Closet

Flying at Night

By Anthony Palma   All you see are the lights, starfire ground into dust, dimming and sharpening like pencils until they are little but pinpricks, a terrestrial star chart. They are the spaces we forget, the front porch light left on, the street lamp guarding our slumber unceasing. On the highways they mark cars, photons … Continue reading Flying at Night