The Illusive Terrorist

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

When I awoke and went into the kitchen to make coffee,
the spider in the corner
the very one I had fed flies
that climbed on the slippery windowpane
had grown the size of a husky,
but unlike a friendly dog
it was in no mood to be petted by me.
I who had fed it so lovingly
when other would have killed it on sight.
Now it was waiting for me to be entangled in the web
it had spun to drink my blood
and let me hang there
as a warning to man
not to tinker with nature.
Called my neighbour
who sleeps with a pump action shotgun,
through the window he shot
till every pot and pan had holes
but somehow the spider escaped.