header image


Tight arms on a tight web,
Thick-gobbed strands hawser-like
Stretched between mountains of dark and light,
A lifetime spent in waiting –
All for the tremor of some screamed thing
That flutters out its life as a warning…

Legs flex, attention rivets a nail to the heart of the coffin,
Dark, dark are the thoughts
And the certainty of death coming –

The machine is running!
Jaws clamp on what life is left,
Swift bungee-jump through space back to the center of the web,
And a black mess of compressed bodies turned in a bundle by vast front legs.

Gagged voices would tell of death.

Imagining being a spider’s prey.

Leave a Reply

Allowed XHTML: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.