Cobwebs

A tangled bunch of wires
lost in confusion
they weave in and out of each other
though to the tip
of the tarantula’s legs that are curled
ever so slightly, around his whiskey glass

another breath is taken
smoke rings surround him
ready to catch his pray
as those hungry lips bite on the cigar
Spain’s sunset burst alight as it hit’s the ocean waves
I cough and mummer under my breath

You’re wires are crossed
That fire in you’re eyes won’t last forever
Night always falls

he lifts his chin, and spins a web towards me
closing in tight
those thick hairy hands
craw upon my shoulder
and rest for a while
as he says

The sun may be going down
But it always rises
It always rises my dear

By Emma Jane Mackay