A. E. L. POEM THE RED BACK’S SILENT ,PSYCHIC HUNTING CALL
I squirening images filled my head.
Soon, my body was covered with sweat,
I had worked myself into quite a fret.
Back and forth, I kicked my feet,
Until I was trapped in tangled sheets.
Spiders all over me!
How terrible an imagination can be!
Red stripes blazing on spiders of black,
Please, I thought, cut me some slack.
I could almost feel them bite my toes,
Those red-backs, who marched on in rows.
They crawled on me,
Never let me free.
And as soon as I thought
That I’d surely be caught,
I awoke from my slumber,
And realized my blunder.
It was only a dream after all,
And then I heard the red-back’s silent, psychic, hunting call….