Paul Beare

(Albuquerque, New Mexico)

Awaiting His Prey - Poem by Paul Beare

High on the ceiling corner, hanging net strong in its world, eight bitty eyes peer out as it awaits with forbearance for victims.
None today, maybe a feasible fly tomorrow.
I sleep now.
It walks away into the night, lost like my wondering silent mind.


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Read poems about / on: today, sleep, lost, world, night



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003



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