Waltz of the Three Spiders
They crouch and creep on a narrow line
and bait each other by flicking a tine.
Like angry bulls they paw at ground,
then shadow each other, not making a sound.
They ebb and sprint and flow and rescind,
such skeletal flowers in a winter wind.
For lack of a sister, they court a brother.
With lack of prey they devour each other
and marry the corpse in the tattered gown,
these dead corsages hanging down.
Now they lunge and now they hie,
to wait another day to die.
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