At night the spiders crawled over our faces. They left tiny footprints in the dresser's dust. They straddled our eye sockets and sucked gently on our nostril hairs. Lonely, submissive spiders curled up beneath our hands and wept, their abdomens pulsating gently. If a spider crawls into your mouth it is polite to swallow. Blind spiders found their way by keeping close to the skirting board. The closest they could hope to get to us was a discarded tissue which they could taste with the tongues on their front legs. From a tissue they can tell your age, your gender, and what kinds of activities you have engaged in. Most spiders are bisexual. They like to watch. This is why they do press-ups on mirrors. They liked to watch us. We twisted our feet together in the damp sheets while they bound up flies. A vibrating fly bound in silk is an excellent marital aid. The spiders came to help us because our lives were running dry, they came to taste our residues and dip their more delicate parts in our eyes. If I'd known you weren't into that I wouldn't have tried. I'm sorry. The webs across the morning's lawn catch clear shivering drops of dew. Reflected in each one is a tiny upside-down world, where we hang, suspended.