A spider known as Doris, with a face of fangs and eyes,
Was an outcast in the circles of her kin,
As she found she much preferred the life and company of flies
Which, amongst the spiders, was a mortal sin.
For society expected her to eat her friendship group,
Having filled them full of venom from a bite,
Which converted all their vitals to a fine and tasty gloop
That arachnids slurp with obvious delight.
She was ostracised and talked about and ridiculed galore,
But despite all the opprobrium and hate,
Found a housefly known as Sidney who she came quite to adore
And decided Sid would be her lifelong mate.
She ignored his dirty habits and his lack of all finesse,
His propensity to hang around in shite
And despite his reputation, Doris loved Sid nonetheless
And their troths were plighted one fine starry night.
They eloped with gay abandon; bade their friends a fond adieu,
But unfortunately hadn't packed a snack.
And by midnight when our Doris felt a hunger pang or two,
Sidney's future looked quite ominously black.
In Shakespearian tradition star-crossed lovers have it tough,
And although Sid tried to tempt his wife with poop,
When a spider's feeling peckish, love is never quite enough
And the marriage was dissolved in Sidney soup .
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Tristan Moss lives in York with his partner and two young children. He has had poems published in Magma, Shadow Train, NOON, Fat Damsel, Obsessed With Pipework, Snakeskin, The Journal, Ink Sweat and Tears, Word Riot, Camroc Review, Elimae and Alba. He can be contacted at email@example.com .