Erika Herman

Words never escape the mouth:

A fine silk spins down my lips
latching to your ears
A spider tiptoes across the tightrope
balancing ever so steadily
gently it brushes your skin

The time I heard your voice
your lips didn't even move
But I wanted to rush
forward
and drape my body over yours
like an ocean upon the rocks

The spider places its tentacle arm into your ear canal
then heaves its whole being
Forward
descending into the darkness

You paw at your head
But there's something about those tickling, feathery legs
racing around inside that you enjoy:

like the child who screeches
as his mother's fanged fingernails
crawl over his skin:

he wants her to do it again

She says nothing
as his laughter rolls into the air
like a loosed barrel tumbling down a hillside

because she remembers-

remembers how her mother did the same thing to her

remembers the spider racing down her ear canal

remembers learning
how silence and fingernails can dance
like a thousand fires
inside another's chest