Arachnid Pulchritudinous

by Ben Fortenberry

A young, optimistic black widow spider,
Ventures forth with only fate to guide her.

Born in a cemetery of a long dead mother,
Her first meal is the slaughter of her brothers.

Now she’s seeking sanctuary, a safe place to weave,
A viscous snare no husband could ever hope to leave.

But in her path lies a monument to greatness,
Some gaudy memorial to a champion peerless.

Hardly an obstacle, this limestone gravestone,
She deftly climbs through the weeds all overgrown.

Across ‘Loving Father,’ along ‘Devoted Son,’
Tenderly treading over the insipid dedication.

She ascends to the top, a point surveying,
This vast burial ground with morning mist burning.

The possibilities are infinite, all crannies and corners,
Protection from the black shod feet of maudlin mourners.

But cruel fate intervenes, robs her of this brief joy,
Conveying destruction in the form of a naïve, young boy.

He’s with grandparents, visiting the family plot,
When he eyes our dear arachnid, though not her small red spot.

Soft hands reach down to block her desperate flight,
Only to receive the venom contained within her bite.

Pain, chaos ensue, our heroine falls to the earth,
Her relief slightly shaded with mirth.

The poison’s toxins cause rapid swelling,
The child’s cries drowned by grandparents yelling.

Fingerprint lost, the boy’s left index finger,
Replaced by a phobia that will forever linger.

Our young, optimistic black widow spider will also change,
Become a deadly bug, all treacherous and strange.

But isn’t it peculiar, isn’t it weird,
That one so blameless should be hated and feared?

Regardless, the arachnid pulchritudinous will forever persevere.