8.
a spider half-smushed in the bathtub continued to struggle & move
its sev'ral remaining bug-fixtures whenever i entered, to prove

it wasn't quite ripe for the wastebasket, or maybe just lonely for play
stuck to monotonous porcelain; for days i whizzed by in my own groove

till fin'lly i grokked what was wanted, and slapped him once good with a shoe.
you think i am slow with my pity, you oughta queue up for my love.