I, Spider

I, spider, wait
in hope with monolithic patience.
My web shivering by starlight,
moist ice of tangled spittle.

I can feel it
pulsate though my feet.
Are its fingers broken into
fisty knots of tears, crying for contact?

The zodiac stares down, through the layers of sky's breath.
The stars weep, unaware of the patterns.
"Is there anybody there?" speaks Death.

Oh, where art thou?
Oh, where art thou?
Where doth you lie?
Where art thou?

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.