We Eat

Originally published 2019, by Writer’s Den
By Alan Vincent Michaels

Little spider, minute and black
a mere speck against
crimson and white silk strands
multi-hued colors swirling
through shifting patterns

I watch you wander aimlessly
then you dart quickly
towards vibrations
along the strands of your web
then you move slowly
after your prey vanishes

I blink

Did I see what I thought I saw?
That fly had struggled
for only the briefest of moments
caught in what seems to be sticky silk

Was it your dinner?
Was it not?
I guess, not

When it touched your fateful trap
it vanished
but to where?

Another fly
unsuspecting dinner to be
was caught in your web

It, too, vanished
not with a flash
but with the cut between frames
of an old-time movie

Existence
then non-existence

Curiosity piqued
fear swallowing my reason
I approach and reach out
touching the spot
where the flies weren’t

A sound, like shattering crystals
A smell, like scented flowers
My heart hears a siren’s call

All control abandoned
as my fingertips touch
nothingness

My world dissolves
into streams of blacks and gray
then, momentary glimpses of
fangs and faceted eyes
encompass me
becoming real
becoming solid

Words
infused with music
rising to a crescendo
strong and clear
supplanting my thoughts
and fears
“We eat…like kings!”