the spider waits <br />in the center of her web <br />the sun shines on the sticky morning <br />dew drops <br />sparkle <br />and she sits <br />and hungry she needs <br /> <br />A fly <br />he is ready <br />to die <br />and his hundred eyes <br />see the spider <br />and he feels <br />the web sticking to <br />his wings <br />and his body, legs <br />it feels good <br />he is tired and ready for the fang <br />to pierce him <br />and fill his body with <br />poison <br />and he'll say, ' Eat me.' <br /> <br />The spider moves <br />to devour and drink <br />her legs moving <br />mechanical <br />soft and articulate <br />slowly <br />she touches the body <br />and feels lonely <br />her hunger <br />is lusting moving <br />closer <br />in <br />some <br />kind of embrace <br />between the spider <br />and this fly <br />she no longer wants to eat <br />he no more longs to die <br /> <br />They sit together <br />and wait <br /> <br />resisting nature <br /> <br />And she says, ' No, you eat me.'<br /><br />Jeffrey Quattlebaum<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/don-t-go-breaking-my-heart/
