They Come To Me In Dreams Poem by Jacob Coleman

Feelings aside, spiders are really small
Monstrosities: balls of poison (with legs
Usually hairy,8 of them in all)
With death-wild eyes to boot, black shiny
As orbs of darkness in a witch's lair!
The way they crawl reminds me of tiny
Machines, except machines don't carry eggs
In sticky grey sacks upon their backs (dare
I take a closer look?) . Oh, what did God
Have in His head (or His heart)when He bred
These awful things, compacted from the clod
Of caves, where webs first merged with human dread
And made a puzzled mockery of size?
Indeed, God (who knows)must be very wise.