I wouldn’t call it arachnophobia.
I’m not paralyzed at the sight of a spider
proudly squatting on a sticky throne
enormous bug eyes surveilling
the nightmares of smaller bugs soon to wander
through a web of foreboding.
But the thought of eight legs skittering
across my skin — pincers pelting me with jitters,
tremors rippling over me
in concentric circles of panic,
now unsure of my link
on the food chain.
Oh hell. Now I can’t sleep.
Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019
Happy Halloween! Submitted for the Poets United: Midweek Motif ~ A Million Years Howl When Voices Whisper Among The Trees