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Melodies XLIX; Ravishment
[after a reading of Robert Aickman's ghost stories]
Eight-legged and small,
you have sought refuge in my room,
where the dingy window admits
only the gray lights of storm-clotted skies.
The days and nights merge.
A few strands of silk mutiply to a nest; and
have become the cocoon that binds me round.
And you, unapologetic, driven by instinct,
eight-legged and huge at once,
hover over me as your fangs seek out
the softest parts, most vulnerable, of me,
exchanging the pain numbing venom for my juices,
your eight eyes blazing with terrible triumph.
Starward
