Final Breath Beneath the Spider
I remember freedom’s first thought:
Thank you, dear puss, for seeing a poor man caught
Between the fingers of the new queen
Whose senses were poor but vengeance keen.
Only a few more steps led me back again,
Trapped in new snares exactly when
A spider, with empty stomach and long leg
Bounded from the warning thread
I thought little of it until the fiend
Used its legs to hold me pinned
Helplessly against its net
Was my recapture a truly a safe bet?
My chest tightens with every new tress
Cementing the answer in my head--yes.
What maiden gives birth to a lad as tall as a pin?
Who allowed me to breathe so uneasily among my kin?
To steal the stones of cherries
And with King Arthur, make merry?
To possess pies, or fall into pots on the fire?
To be eaten by this damned spider, yes, who lit my pyre?
My eyes are covered, but I see when I was young,
I asked my mother where I had come from.
“We were poor and lonely, Tom Thumb,”
“Our barren home had made us numb
“To the blessings of others,
“‘Til Merlin come, under night’s cover.
“So desperate for children were we,
“That I spoke in hyperbole,
“And the height of your being came as such
“Under the Fairy Queen’s magic touch.
“The sight of a man the size of an appendage
“Amused the wizard to no end
“But to this poor couple, a son
“Was the greatest gift, be he a toe’s length, or a thumb’s.”
So I was a joke, was I?
A freak to be touted, feared until he died?
And this wizard that sealed my fate?
Does he know that a spider’s thirst I will now slake?
I wonder what they will say when they find me.
“On the stone of the kitchen lies he,
“Innocent soul or mischief maker,
“Arthur's favorite or royal food taker?”
I dare to hope they recall me fondly
And pair my death with melancholy
But in my heart, one statement’s true:
Their knight is dead-Merlin, I hate you.
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