Poetry By
Catherine E. Bollinger
Published on: 7/31/2006
Blood Sucker
Mama drained Daddy dry. She started out small, making babies Daddy had to feed and clothe, making Daddy find bigger, better jobs, making him work night and day to feed those babies. And Mama, she was a spider, fat and happy in the center of her web. Now and then, to amuse herself, she'd pluck a strand, and watch us struggle to hold on. Babies can grow up and run away. But Daddy, he was stuck tight. Mama had her hands around his heart, and she kept squeezing, squeezing till it just gave out. But Mama outsmarted herself when she drained Daddy. Her children know – spiders need blood to live. They wait, out of reach, for the widow to weaken, and the web to unravel the ties that bind.
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