Round moon in the dark city
Dropping light
Like a master pianist’s fingers
Drop notes
Picked up from midair
Turned into words

Master of the Webs

Pluck my strings carefully
Perhaps I will kiss you today
Kill you tomorrow

You will stand there in surprise
Holding your heart
How it was you came to win

And lost

To one you saw as prey
Hanging limp
From the jaws of a phool
Unable to forget

Yet we all have to forget
Drink Spiders Lethe’s wine or weep
I have heard cats cry
When their playthings
Lie upon the floor

I have seen sad whiskers
Predators eat their pasts
They become

Wanting the next place
Where these urges to destroy
Turn into amazing works

Of art

(pic by ‘spiders’)