[38] Trust Games, Susan Wurtzburg

I am caught, trout on a line, fox in a trap, bird in a net,
       snagged by my own silken skein.
Bright spider in the middle of the web, lines woven
       myself, the center of the scheme.
Small, initial foray ensnared a few flies, early success
       sparked complacency, current crisis.
Expanded the plot, netted juicy birds, tripped a few
       wires, now the predator is prey.
How long will it take? Wolves follow the scent, leads
       directly to me, strands twitch my body.

“My client pleads innocent, Your Honor,” echoes across
       the court, no one convinced.
The battle wages daily, while I sit by my lawyer, hide
       my nasty parts under an unassuming air.
Serious money spirals down the drain; death penalty
       on the table blows the budget sky high.
My web was too visible, beautifully hung in the trees
       for all to see, including these jurors.
A verdict is clear, poisonous words persuade; judge rules
       the spider to be crushed within the month.

dying inside