Widow Spider
M
Mark Heathcote
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Widow spider
lazing on your Ida down.
Don't-point-your finger,
behave like an irksome clown.
For unobtrusive sleep
might knock you
off your perch to the ground.
And spirit you away
until naught-is-ever found,
In those cradle-pinched hours
might you one day weep?
All dewy dismembered
webbed in the deceitful winds keep.
Bu şiiri puanla
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