Spider against Fly

Slung in the center of his silken wheel

A hairy lump of feigning drowsiness

Flashes alert at the first desperate tug

Of a winged insect caught and in distress.

Not too hastily does the spider run

But like a boy a-fishing fingers the thread.

He sends an ironic message down the wire:

If you are there, he says, then you are dead.

BIRD IN MY ROOM