(no subject)
After that it was silent
Except for the breath of spiders
Their engines and their cranes
Their cobweb cities built on flies
That have been sucked-dry since summer.
The roar of every arachnid metropolis.
The dead-end grocery store jobs
The black-widows, and them:
Their bodies dry
From use, abuse
And wear.
Whore make-up.
The red-hour glass ticking
On their glossy bodies.
Until they are without means.
And their sprawling and meticulous webs
That blow away twice in a single year, one cycle.
How silly for them to work at all.
They are only spiders.
Except for the breath of spiders
Their engines and their cranes
Their cobweb cities built on flies
That have been sucked-dry since summer.
The roar of every arachnid metropolis.
The dead-end grocery store jobs
The black-widows, and them:
Their bodies dry
From use, abuse
And wear.
Whore make-up.
The red-hour glass ticking
On their glossy bodies.
Until they are without means.
And their sprawling and meticulous webs
That blow away twice in a single year, one cycle.
How silly for them to work at all.
They are only spiders.