Arachne

Your first mistake was to smile at me:

I remembered how to spin again,
darting in and around
and through,
weaving the softness in your eye
into infertile veils
of love
that the wind will carry with it.

But you never knew
that Itsy Bitsy can't cough water
when she's spitting out blood--
that she weaves and she weaves
with no fingers left to prick.
So I spin and I spread
and I learn to live thin--
I asphyxiate you in gold
and I am sorry.

Run from Arachne--
She spins on eight broken legs
if you only
almost
love her.