Cold Progress
Date: Nov 25th, 2007 7:37:02 am - Subscribe
Mood: sour

Began with whisper soft spider steps
dancing in my throat.

Grew to scraping spider slides,
same dance floor.

Before long, the feeling of weeping
arachnids filled my nose.
Bless you, bless you, bless you ...

Now, somehow,
a tarantula is lodged
in my chest ... cramped ...
causing sleeplessness
and the unsettled bewilderment ...

How am I to preach today?

Comments: (1)

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anonymous - December 11th, 2007
My comment underneath "Pile & Pounce" was intended for this spider poem. It crept to the wrong poem!


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