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Truth be told
there is nothing more to do now
but lie in silence side by side
and watch the workings of a spider's spindly legs
high up in the raftered ceiling, rappel slowly
by an invisible thread
right into our open mouths.
Mouths, we were intimate with once
Our mouths of frenzy
Our mouths of joy
Scarlet mouths
Our mouths of blood
Bee-stung, ferocious once.
Now ashen, watching spiders
spindle their webs, exhorting
Weave! Weave!
You monster!
Gag us with your silk!
Choke us from within!
And Spin!
For truth be told
there is nothing more to do now
but wait for the spider to spawn.
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