The Mind Spiders
#2 of Poems
I seem to have been on a bit of a poetry kick lately. This one is almost the complete opposite of my last, but I hope you folks will enjoy nonetheless!
I saw a man with a spider yesterday.
Eight beady black eyes not once a'flicking,
Shiny sharp mandibles champing and clicking.
It perched atop his head; a great bird of prey.
"Sir," I asked, "Might I inquire what troubles you?"
"My job and my wife," he replied, "I fear to lose both."
"But surely you won't," I said, "If you value their worth."
"His wife who is cheating," the dark spider hissed, "with his boss too."
The man and his spider went on their way.
I wondered if I were going insane.
What sort of folk had spiders in their brain?
But that was not the last I saw that day.
A young woman was next, pleasingly plump.
Her hairy spider crouched, fat body dangling,
Near crushing a small dog, its tags rudely jangling,
And enough claws and spines to make a porcupine jump.
"Miss," said I, "could you spare the time?"
"Too much trouble," she yawned, "home I must be."
"Yes," rasped the spider, "for nap number three."
"Apologies," I said, "rest is most sublime."
The pair trundled off, leaving me to ponder;
If all folk had these spiders, might I have one too?
What shape did it take, what vice, what hue?
Fear? Anger? Sloth? Perhaps Gluttony? Which failing is mine, I wonder, I wonder.
I avoid my reflection now, be it pond or mirror.
Who knows what I'd see, clinging to my head;
A horrid beast of octants, fangs dripping red.
I don't wish to know, for it's the spider I fear.