Kinks in the Food Chain

The sullen clouds blew by at last, and, in the evening's
Rain-washed light, I hovered at the margin of the kitchen,
And I hissed at her, "I am the spider. You're the fly."
"We'll see who is whom," she said, and then she made
Her move on me, and staggered, I went reeling back,
And chastened, rather pleasantly, I fell with her upon
The floor, and, in the grappling which ensued,
I wasn't certain which of us was spider,
Which was fly.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 41 times
Written on 2018-06-06 at 02:09

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text



Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo. Kitchen passion is the best passion.
2018-06-09


yes, kant can The PoetBay support member heart!
you are my shaving soap
you'll be my beard
is not bad neither
2018-06-06


Bibek
A funny, witty, little poem from you! Marvelous!

Bibek
2018-06-06


Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I like this poem. It has a happy free feeling to it.
Ashe
2018-06-06