persephone_kore

O Centipede, you chill me to my core,
You many-legged fluid carnivore.

I hear you eat up other household pests,
The ant, the fly, the uninvited guests.

Your hairlike rippling legs are very gross,
But I will try to be a gracious host:

As long as I can't catch you, I will think
Of all the bugs you keep out of my drink,

And though I do not want to stock your meals
If you should find them, prithee, eat your fill.

You race across the floor and up the wall
And to the ceiling.. lose your grip... and fall.

And down you go, too small to make a plunk.
O Centipede -- I ask you -- are you drunk?

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I'm not sure if I can blame the centipede for my bizarre dream about a bungee-jumping black widow spider, though.