Spider Nut

Crustaceous spider,
squat
in your web,
greying hair, thinning hair,

licorice legs
and a walnut shell.
You could be a crab,
tired of the grainy shore,
the glucose whirl of a gluey sea.

You are a story,
dried up spider,
hard as knuckles,
true as oak.

Nutty, like tree-fall,
remember me Queen Arachnid,
descending,
fangs wet with thirst.
I admire you, esteem you,
your pineapple steel.

When you fall,
I will run for my life.

K. S. Moore

My thoughtful husband recently presented me with this delightful shot of a spider that lives in our garden (eek)!  I don’t mind spindly looking spiders, but those more unusual varieties that have more substance to them . . . well, I find them a little creepy.  Seeing the photo reminded me of a similar spider I encountered some years ago and led me to take a fresh look at this poem and reshape it for the UK’s National Poetry Day.  Enjoy, and don’t have nightmares!