A new poem by Helen Lehndorf.

hemmed in like a boar between archers

I was meant to be cleaning the house

but there was a spiderweb
on my side of the bed
silver lurking
right beside my dreaming head

& then the blowfly that had
soundtracked my insomnia
flew into her nest, I mean her web
I mean her plans for the weekend

I was supposed to be cleaning
but she crept towards the fly’s buzzing distress
venom in and then a spin and a spin and a spin
& I got down on my knees

the fly hummed until it didn’t
a slow silk shroud around
humble hostile beauty
miniature goth opera in the corner

I got down on my knees &
tried to take a photo but my phone screen cracked
and my kneecaps cracked
and the lenses of my glasses cracked

if a spider could laugh then she laughed,
be careful which gods you kneel for

in my best David Attenborough voice I said
see the audacity of a queen taking what she needs with no sorrow

I said                  click here to shop the look

I said                  all eight feet to the dancefloor

I said                  feast, bitch