Lolita, the tarantula.

Her ten year old jaws
Slide sly behind her legs
I know what she wants,
What she always wants
The hunt

A rosy blush
Alight beneath old bulbs
Shines,
Midst shadows of brown hair.

Sometimes I wonder
Who is the master, really?
She is wise enough to tell me,
Silently, with a high head

And a stiff pose.

–LM