Wasp Damage (Poetry)

A wasp flew in
across the room
and down our hallway —
found a window-square
tight-shut —
it threw itself about
charged the glass
and like a vandal wrecked
the cobweb I had saved
and photographed.

As though bent
on some mad mission anger-fuelled
the insect cut its frantic way
through every anchor strand — and thus
the web collapsed —
fell in — all tension lost.

One small aggressive trespasser
destroyed its perfect weave —
a clotted tweed
of dust and filaments
that picked up light —
transmitted it
from sun to lens.

I could have crushed
its gaudy brittle stripes —
snapped clean those kicking legs —
but no
I let it go
and dusted off the ledge.