The Spider
In the corner of my
room, a spider hangs
mid-descent, wearily
watching and cautious,
yet less afraid of
me, than I of him.
The
Snake
The snake, perhaps, is getting a
bad rap,
silently slithering about, as he
does,
and that forked tongue tasting the
air, tasting us,
a devil given form, a curse of
biblical proportions,
easy to dislike, easy to fear.
Things
that go Bump in the Night
Things that go bump in the night
come
from under the bed, the back of the
closet,
in between the walls, and nobody
knows
what they are, only what we believe
them to be,
the reality of those things bumping
about in the night.
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