The Signature Spider

The Signature Spider

Her garish bloated body dances lewdly
Behind her x-ing signature,
Which, it if spells your name,
The old wife’s tale says, you’ll die

Like an acrobat loosely hung in the rigging,
She gently rocks her web;
Her snowy inverted head quivering
As I throw leaves onto her net.

Now she hangs, protecting the brown sack
Slung behind her scrawled signature,
Then surrealistically she jolts across the web
Toward my raised hand, jerked quickly back;

And now her tense legs scratch my dream,
Her web of a thousand new signers
Jolting toward the back of my neck
As I sneak away from her web;

And my need to kill her matches
My fear that she’d charge up my arm
And insolently send me flailing myself,
Dancing across the lawn