Tarantulas Giving Birth

Crawling spiders live in your mind’s corner
Poisonous tarantulas they maybe.

Bite marks are left on your flesh
Transmitting misery to victims with daring smiles,
hair knitted with cobwebs
capturing flying blissful hearts,
my joy lands in front you
a new pray for your jaws.

Suspended you leave me in this blinding light
persuaded and then forced to dry,
merciful strangers set me free
by cutting the remnants of my wings.
I fall and crack away from your piercing eyes
Your sedative presence is no longer effective.

Broken bones and wasted tears
gasping for your stale air
inside a newborn cries from the slap
but finally takes her first breath.

by Ivy Christou

Comments (4)

A talented poetess for sure. Congratulations HBH.
I've missed reading poems like this. I like the metaphor of the tarantulas, even though I despise the sight of them! Eeek! The final line hit me hard and clear. 'Finally takes her first breath...' Its simplicity and truth is brilliant. Your friend, Seán
Poor tarantulas - nobody likes 'em. Wasps sting them, scoop our their abdomens, devour the protein to feed their egg-sacs. Then they implan the sacs in their hairy carcasses. Talk about insult to injury. To me they look like disembodied monkeys' paws. scuttling acoss the forest floor. My daughter has a couple in a plastic box. They move about once a fortnight.
a powerful, vivid, and healing, piece, Ivy.