Poor Arachne,
proud of her accomplishments,
a woman ahead of her time,
weaving herself
from poverty to fame
with nought but a loom
and her wits,
unrepentently boasting:
no goddess was her teacher.

Pallas Athena,
jealous, enraged,
battling shuttle to shuttle
with a mortal
and losing,
lashing out in a catfight
of purple and gold thread,
thwarting a suicide
with her heavenly magic.

Now Arachne swings forever
in dusty corners –
helpful flytrap, horror icon –
while the goddess of Athens
fades
into unremembered myth.

“And there upon the looms of Tyrian purple… / gold thread to bind them, / to weave the story of long years ago.” Ovid, The Metamorphoses, Book VI