--- W I L L I A M   M .  G O T T L I E B

	sphenogram to spin

	Spiderweb those sphery, spiking eyes,
bestialize 
the celestial, predatory reader,
breasts like threats,
feline loins wet, raptor
wings the sphygmus of the possessed sky,
a correct
answer required: What am I? –
phoneme only, ink-
lings, yet the 
deadly 
Sphinx.
	My monster, my mother, my lover,
are these letters a spill of your humor,
black bile,
the Oedipal
blood
of uncovering, still-
quivering eyes,
or the blinding writer’s?