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.

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