Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
has spiderwebs in her hair, gray gossamer bows
like hand-spun lace or antique angel wings.
Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
blesses the multi-legged, lights candles for cockroaches,
protects their errant bodies from screams and shoe bottoms.
Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
cracker of windows, bringer of the downward-tipped glass,
the scrap of cardboard, releasing her charges to the sky.
Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
writes letters to pesticide companies, pleading
for intercession, for understanding, for a truce.
Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
teaches centipedes how to pray, folding their hundred
legs, pincers clasping tight to forgiveness.
Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
clips fly paper to shreds, a liturgy of snips as moths circle
her head like a halo, buzzing praises on the wind.
by Teresa Milbrodt
in Volume 4 Issue 1
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