The Black Widow Nebula 

 

A scarlet-spotted shadow lies in wait,

sequestered in the crawl space of the skies;

her venom can subdue whatever beast 

may brush her filaments. From cosmic ray

to comet tail, the brute will gladly feast

on anything approaching her eight eyes.

For decades this behemoth’s not been seen

 

by us, who’d be fang-watering cuisine

for such a carnivore, as succulent

as any planet, moon, or galaxy.

(Thank heavens she can’t leave the Milky Way!) 

With all her baby blues, she cannot see

even a light year off. Still, she can scent

the breath of suns, feel shivers in her silk,

 

detecting prey, as does her earthly ilk,

capturing crickets, katydids and ants,

beetles and flies, digested as they flail.

Inside her abdomen, spiderlings play 

and grow, emerging from their gauzy veil

to blaze with splendor. Through the vast expanse,

was it just chance when, in 2005,

 

dust-piercing eyes had caught the thing alive?

They saw, not just the hourglass-like mark,

but youngsters greedily gorging on their quarry —

the monster which had spawned them. They obey

the age-old urges, being as predatory

as mom, whose body, slowly growing dark

will, like all nothingness, evaporate.

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