I am a bad daughter I have never killed
a spider the spiders are aware of this they string

extra sticky silk webs across my bedroom door I’ve
been walking through spiderwebs white fibers

sprout from my scalp when I step out I taught
myself how to knit I wanted to knit a sweater

for my mother on her birthday but the yarn
unraveled the sweater became yarn besides

my mother was born in the summer my mother
red like rain my mother’s hands webbed white

with scars like fish scales she killed the fish in our kitchen
she kills the spiders that cling to her shadows I am no better

than a thing in the shadows I leave home at seventeen
my red yarn stretched over a map the guilt stretches me the distance

stretches the spiderwebs until one
by one the bridge cables snap concrete knuckles crack

and crumble in one bite I am swallowed by river water
a boneless fishtail sliding down a throat

Vanessa Yang (she/her) is a junior at Barnard majoring in biochemistry. She enjoys driving next to the beach, taking pictures of the sky, and talking about California. You can find her on Instagram @vanessayyang.