Spider Thread...

Like spiders' thread, the wet web of
Your desires made liquid as honey
From your tongue, your lips.
From between your hips
A sweet feast of love
Made of cunny.
Fairy waterfall streams, bridges, ropes
Of spittle from your tongue to the
Tower assaulted - your hopes
Tied to its slowing fall - so must it be.
Then upon our mutual lips
The honey to mead
The feast to seed
To soul through hips.