The Change

She chose to dine alone
Setting the table with care
Pausing to straiten the cloth
Watching it stretch out across

The smooth wood of the table
Like her own skin only lighter
Hating it; showing her
face - but - as yet - not quite

despised. Starting upstairs
the web took her by surprise
Another clump in the
Shower, a crisp white coffer

Its shape almost human. Strange
Each made her feel hungry
As she stacked them in the
parlour. She just caught the

postman. His screams though
muffled, sensed in all eight
legs the tremor; held him
down; wrapped quickly in silk

The parlour clock ticks
Chimes turn with the wind
Door ajar; she sits humming
Waiting calmly for the milk