Cobweb

I heard the fly buzz
as it died
when it died
snared in a web
unseen.

The web was a rope
of many fibers
silky
filaments
like dreams.

The rope was a noose
for the convict
felon
who like Icarus
dared
too high.

A noose hung
in a corner
where the cobwebs hang
and the mingling
is dusty
old sighs.

Are you there?
Are you spinning
now for me?
Now for me?
Is that long strand
vulnerable
stretched too thin
to see?

I’m caught
and I’m here
drab habitation
of whom?

I am caught
and I fear
the toucher’s tomb
the wraith and the womb
and the wide eyed wonder
room.