the spiders sit
in the center of
overladen webs
a contant twitching
of bundled snacks
eight eyes times
eight webs staring
in sixty four points
of stagnant dismissal
and i wonder how many
of those bundles
are whispered odes
to her smile caught
only to feed the
matrons of weaving
as they wait patiently
for my heart to stop
giving them free reign
to burrow deep into
my fetid corpse
of unbound sorrows

will i wake one morning
gulliver tied down by
these scurrying lilliputians
a feast of fevered dream
her name dripping
through the bands of silk
as the eggs hatch
in my overworked brain
a thousand little legs
venomous fangs feasting
on my boundless adoration
an army of spiders
intoxicated on wildflowers
as i fall into the
toxicity of heartsputter
stranded in silken dismay