Antheraea polyphemus
watches on my front door
under the porchlights. Perching,
each singular eye unblinking,
it is the size
of two large hands
joined together
at the wrist
splayed outward
but even bigger still.
Each eye sees I am afraid.
Hear the humming of synthesized
sound from my throat
and Polyphemus stroking
his feathered feelers together.
And it grows louder
this humming like thundering says
Polyphemus is upon this door.
And he will stay on the door
for six days. Watching me for
his entire adulthood. Fasting,
living on the door
with no mouth.
On the seventh day
he withers, nobody, eyes
picked apart by birds.
For now, Polyphemus
watches me
and in him, his father
is well-pleased.
Sarah Haman is a resident of Coeur d' Alene. She likes drinking coffee by the water, fishing, and making chocolate chip pancakes.