Dearest, Tarantula Hawk
You are neither tarantula nor hawk
but predator—No, a predator eats
their prey, you have prayed to impart larvae.
In part, I’m paralyzed calculating
Three-dimensional tangent planes to
Placate a chimera. Here, ma chérie,
Beautiful things: your neck, your nectar, you
Perform dialysis with venom sweet,
Sickeningly sweet you’re sickening you
sicken me; a glutton for destruction
You turned acme into feed, feasting on
Pulled teeth, bled livers, rotted skin peeled from
Sides of a spinning cephalothorax.
Are you done taking my pieces apart?
Yours, Tarantula
Poetry
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