She was so small, but beautiful
her tiny body glossy red
and gleaming like a little jewel;
I don’t like spiders, my mind said,
my heart, though, felt her desperation
to jump out of my sink – in vain
though arachnoid determination
drove her to try again, again.
Then human reflex sprung the trap
(I don’t like spiders, said my brain)
before I knew it – turned the tap
and washed her, helpless, down the drain.
She was so small, so gay and bright:
sometimes I dream of her at night.