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.
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