feather like and thin.
Black and glossy she gleams in the moonlight.
White streams of fluid lines
descend from her small spinneret.
Wrapping itself around her legs in ropes,
she twists and molds these white lines.
From within, her web of creativity is born.
SMACK
A deep buzzing sound vibrates throughout,
Jarring her from that crevasse of darkness.
She scuttles along her ruby red hourglass glinting in the light.
She bites deeply releasing her poison.
Not sure about that last line, I might leave it at the ruby red hourglass.
This is my workshop poem for creative writing next week.
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