The Spider in the Artichoke Jar

That is important.
A man can sit in his kitchen,
unemployed, hung over, broke.
No prospects.
In his kitchen, too,
he fears the sweeping paw of the cataclysm.

What is important is he can
from memory recite for the spider in the artichoke jar
poetry in three languages, four,
if you distinguish Shakespeare from Snodgrass.
The spider does not distinguish.
It knows man’s noise simply as shouldering at a broken web.
The spider can’t die muttering poetry
like Goethe, Caesar, or Jesus.
No famous last words.