CALL ME ARACHNE

the mad girl moans in her siren way, all
lure. There is nothing about her you'd call
docile or sweet. Still, men find they can't
keep their eyes off me. I'm known for my
strong legs. You think you want to be wrapped

up close, legs around your back? You think
you want to be eaten? When I spin a story
you're pulled in. In certain light, I
glitter like what I weave. You think you're
about to be snatched up in diamonds, move

deeper into my web. I'm a site many find
addictive. I can't help myself. I'm not very
social. I have a tough outside. My words are
my fangs. But I can shimmer so you don't
see what's about to go for your blood. Few

see my venom until it's too late. I seem delicate,
my legs long as a Hanes model in sheer midnight
hose, lure you from your bed. My blood is pale
blue copper. My heart's in my belly. I eat meat
and I'm always starved.