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 63 times
Written on 2018-06-06 at 02:09

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo. Kitchen passion is the best passion.

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

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


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