By Ken Poyner

It is difficult to explain to a child why the loose spiders he catches in the corners of his room should not be mixed in with the spiders purchased for next week’s spider loaf. To him, a spider is a spider. His senses have yet to learn fine distinction. Eight legs are eight legs. Every web is gossamer. He delights in the morsel, imagines adding it to the family larder. He is too young to judge gradients of capture. Make a game of it. Tell him his spider is special, not for spider loaf, but tastier if he eats it alone, raw.

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The latest of Ken’s twelve collections of poetry and flash fiction is “Science Is Not Enough,” speculative poetry.  He lives in the lower right-hand corner of Virginia and is married to a world champion female power lifter. He spent 33 years herding computers. See him in “Analog”, “Asimov’s,” “Café Irreal,” “Blue Unicorn” and another hundred or so places.  www.kpoyner.com.