The Spider And The Moth

                         The spider crawls one spindly
                         Leg at a time pursuing
                         The moth,
                         String in tow attached  
                         To the forest
                         And its haunted wills
                         Unforgiving and shrill.
 
                         A bony prominence
                         Hairs erect sensing
                         A destruction.
                         How she surrounds it,
                         Hungry for a redness.
                         She hides inside the
                         Withered rose.
 
                         Unuttered, her spun fancies
                         Sugared in dew
                         Prone to entrap what she remembers
                         And twist its entrails,
                         Its heart, its systemics
                         As she watches its demise.
 
                         Oh, how it nurtured her
                         How it resurged to fly again
                         After she grew among
                         Its draining sustenance
                         And drank from its basest
                         Pools of reflection;
                         Wherein she saw you.
 
                         You, the prey she seeks:
                         Rattling in a wooden ventricle
                         Beating like chaff in the wind
                         Beating like an Autumns bounty
                         When the harvester comes.
 
                         Her sickle is but words
                         Relayed in a windstorm
                         When winter dawns.
                         Her net will surround the one,
                         One with whiteness and
                         A cocooned peace
                         Until then she waits,
                         Widow of the cold and pure.
 
                         Purity, never knew such
                         Clairvoyance or retrospect
                         As a crawling, creeping
                         Destroyer eyes its aliment
                         Seeks its covenant
                         Betrays its detriment
                         In chasing what flies
                         And lands briefly
                         But oh, in such the wrong place.
                         Naiivete a nymph,
                         It longs to fly again.
                         How she forgot such grace
                         In hunger for knowing as
                         Her resolve burns and churns.
 
                         They scurry and run;
                         The ones who cannot fly ---
                         The tiny creationists
                         Avoiding mines in fields
                         Of ancient sands
                         Blinding those who fly
                         Windswept like empty pods ---
                         Their death is mirrored  
                         In parched solitudes;
                         Seasons.
 
                         And the spider rides
                         Calamities dragnet ---
                         From an Earths calumet  
                         To a well constructed fishnet
                         That catches those dreams,
                         Those selves, dragging,
                         And all the other debris  
                         For all time lagging.
 
                         Broken leg, broken wing,
                         To cause, to cause
                         Such terminality of things.
 
                         To render a soul,
                         A heart as black as coal  
                         They all flew or ran away ---
                         In time, winter will kill them all.