a bite you pretended not to notice
an angry blister of words
a rash of accusations
an itch for something you can’t have

you’ve said her name eight times in the last ten minutes

a word of caution to ward against poison:

don’t feel sorry for the widowed spiders.

they’re alone for a reason.


One Comment

  1. That’s a terrific poem, and I appreciate the playful spirit with which you composed all the words. Seldom do I have sympathy for spiders.

    – Steve, Assistant at (NYC’s new site for apartments and roommates)


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