The Poet and the SpiderWith script as thin as spider's legs,More Like This
she scrawls her web
of metaphors and lies.
Mapped across the backs of her hands,
with ink veins she weaves
a silver spun tale of
thin, spidery lashes and
that leave a bad taste behind.
She fears the tickle on her skin,
the itching sting as it bites.
She fear the sticky, dew encapsuled
web as it strangles and swallows her.
When asked of her fascination with the creature,
though she fears it so,
the poet has none left to say but
that it is a metaphor,
you tremble at that which sits on your palm
(The fearsome, eight legged monster)
but you do not flinch as it bites.