fly's annointment

This silent spider's legs are long and bent.
His body's small.  I sense he's sentient.

I shudder but my dew-chilled wings prevent
my taking flight.  Some sullen glint

from his eight eyes sedates me.It is meant
that he'll have me for breakfast.  Strangely spent,

I scarcely even struggle.  There's the scent
of sadness in these flowers.  Sacrament.