THE SPIDER

 

Laying here in wait

With formal social grace

I’m patient as a clock

With a little time to waste;

I sharpen up my dagger

Oh, would you like a snack?

I invite inside your cluelessness

With a motive to attack.

 

“Come into my parlor,”

Says the spider to the fly

My tangled web of silkiness

Betrays you, it’s a lie!

I promise not to laugh

If you promise not to cry

When eventually you realize

You are my feast tonight.

 

Don’t mistake my nonchalance

For arrogance my friend

That’s the way the game is played

At least inside my head;

It’s nothing very personal

Fate plotted this collision

This poisoning of your luscious body

With absolute precision.

 

Goodness, you’re still moving

Can I offer you a mint?

I’m not good at condolences

Much less at being friends;

I assure you that it’s futile

I sense you sense the end

Hunger is consuming me

That’s a joke I tell the dead.

 

 

 

All Rights Reserved © August 2016 John J Vinacci

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