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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