The Spider

Folder: 
No Eyelids

 

Stuck in a complex, symmetrical web,

the giant spider twitches its dark tentacles

and glistens its fangs with dew

which beads through the sticky tapestry,

remniscent of a dank night asleep.

The child now cries for mother, but alas,

soon victim of the hungry hug of

demonic dexterity, the living coffin wraps

silence with a silk blanket and pierces

poison into the plump veins. The spider

quickly quiets whatever comes its way.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Let's just say the stork did a poor job.

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Starward's picture

Another evocation of horror

Another evocation of horror with the powerful language of your Symbolist style.  I really admire this, and now I understand, more fully, your comment on my spiderweb poem---which, apparently, I was working on when you posted this great poem.


Starward

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