Social ladder like a spider web.
The hunter, eight lilting legs,
makes her way to her chessboard.

She can see her reward.
In the center, he stills.
This is her game of conquest,
Possession over thrills.

One leg on a spoke,
seven others slowly follow.
No throat to choke,
    no going back.

To the first tier,
more than a crossroad.
The intersection friendship,
A link to his abode.

One level to the other,
connecting one another.
She is taking over his social circle.
She can see the podium.

Closer now, to the epicenter.
    So close.

One circle away, all she can see,
The boy, the prey, the delicacy.