I feel long, spidery-limbs reaching out of the sky

Or sitting, Heavy, in the corner of the room

Black

Lurking

She is the Atom Bomb,

Dropped

But no one can see her venomous, toxic waves of breath

Infecting, dissecting,

Rejecting us

There is no milk or honey here

No willow tree or baby’s breath

Only Her insidious Neglect

And her insatiable urge to Trap

To suffocate us in her hairy grasp

Like Saran or cellophane

We.

Are.

Wrapped.

In clear webs we do not know

We are in

Sad little ignorant

Flies.