The Spider in the Sink

In reality, I was so appreciative of the inspiration that I let the little one live. I mean, aren't we all just spiders in somebody's sink?

Four phobic pairs pinning for traction on

a misty stoneware tyrant failed again.

The faucet turns, the water nears -- she’s gone

up corners with frantic fear of the wet drain.

In tumbling starts and tiny toils she tries

for life, still humid heights and fluent flows

hound her round her splashing, spiraling demise.

Her life’s a game that’s played with my god-hose,

that’s aimed enough to trouble, not quite drown.

If weary, I’ll wash her way when I’m done.

The littlest thirst had likely teased her down,

whence god-hand guided waters forbid her to run.

Then, pinned to the side where she'd tiredly crept,

she refused the cruel sport, and down she leapt.

 

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

What a brilliantly visual and movingly philosophical write! Your word choice is unique and inspired. Congratulations on your win as well!

[Salvatore Buttaci]

Congratulations on winning the Write-Me-a-Sonnet Contest!