Upstarts for the Whole

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

A mass of spiderlings spreads out alone

But yet together.  Mothers do not mean

One jot to eight-legged critters.  Their new zone

Is living killing.  Hatred bares between

Them all.  They want their prey, that’s all, and so

They go about their strategems to catch

And slaughter.  We do not expect a glow

From them unless the blackness from this batch

Is ultraviolet black beams aligned

With sinister silk threads called threat.  The range

Of spiderlings spreads wide, this lot refined

And floating devils.  This is nothing strange.

  Since slaughter is the law of life, they fit

    Together separately with God’s own kit.