The Impetus To Bite
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She strings silken snares, spanning every chasm
trying to entrap an unwary fly.
A slight vibration causes her to spasm,
delighting in the news that lunch is nigh.
She dines in opulence; walls draped in silk,
where mummified meals hang as trophies won.
Her inner chamber's the color of milk,
but dewdrops make her web gleam in the sun.
A vicarious thrill follows each kill,
within the theater of life and death.
Hunger supplies the impetus to bite,
and poison ensures flies breathe their last breath.
The spider holds no feelings for the fly,
and yet, for it to live, the fly must die.
(Sonnet)
8/17/2018
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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