Song Of The Spider
 by Teri Sharp
The song of the spider sings in my veins,
Not a trace found of once-mortal remains.
In the pattern of close-woven desire,
It's geometric wetness infused with fire.
My prey enters the maze so willfully,
Unaware of the dangers so thrillingly,
Concealed in my anachroid embrace,
Pinioned so invitingly in my insectile lace.
The gossamer trap of love has been spun,
Too late - the dance of death has begun.
Silky tendrils snake 'round his heart,
A lightning slice, and he is ripped apart.
'Twas my intent all along, you see,
For the lethal spider is an integral part of me. |
