Who Will? Poem by Terry Collett

Who will
come for us?

Who will
release us?

Snow is falling,
the whiteness
like a blessing,
a chill touches
our skin.

I saw a spider,
black plump,
hanging on a thread
swinging above
her head,
she knew not,
and I said nothing,
but stared.

Who will
release us?

Who come
for us?

She spread
her wings wide,
her fleshy fruit
in season and ripe,
occhi d'angelo.

I partook
of her fruit
and was satiated,
no angels sang,
nor sun burn
brighter nor
burn out,
just someone
down dark
corridors
loudly shout.