Poem : Playing God And Paying The Devil

I squat down to watch as she sits on her web of misfortune
The widow with her orange belly shining so bright
Against her body
Black as midnight with no moon in sight
I watch her listening to her web’s harp being played
Its silken strings sparkle like crystals
In the warm morning sunlight
Music being made from moving about
As the fly plucks her harp again and again
He plays his song so soft
Only she can hear its distressed melody
Its terrified verse
Its quivering chorus
Yet the fly is honest in his thrashing
For he knows undoubtedly
He’s invited the widow for dinner
Now her black legs with spiked ends start their stepping
Moving with speed to greet him
Closer and closer
As the fly continues to play his sweet song of struggle
Faster and faster he moves
Till a stick from the hand of my holding
Pulls him from the web of his demise
I watch him fly away free till he disappears from sight
I stare off into the distance where I last saw him
And think of the good deed I’ve done
OW!
I look down to my hand that is now on fire
To see the widow’s two fang marks and her slipping away