The Spider Who Ate a Butterfly


In this poem, I ask you to think about what it might mean to hunt something that resembles the better part of yourself and the ways in which beauty might play a part in this.

I talk to this winged-alien because it troubles me. 

it flies, it drinks and lands upon a tree.  

I tell it that I am the child-catcher from 

a forgotten fantasy. That I steal dreams and communicate them 

outlandishly. Not English nor Nonsense can contain 

my plea. For like the moon’s reflection, I steal you into me.


A spider provoketh beauty quicker than thieves. 

And yet, we are in the forest enclosed by leaves. 

(Now: attention I hear you stir  

your feverish wings start to spur) 

‘But I am the most beautiful of things, 

my patterns leap and bound in the wind

sewing a tapestry of secrets and kings,  

that hover beautifully above these water springs’  


Above all else, I love creative expression. Whether it's directing actors on set, writing poems, performing covers, or getting into the nitty-gritty of a text for review - I am happiest when exercising my imagination. I hope to work with Wessex Scene to produce both creative and critical work that helps us think critically about art and its reception in the world.

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