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An Itch
by S.P. Flannery
The sharp edge scrapes
skin desiccated of moisture
and leeched by radiator heat
on this leeward-side desert.
Back and forth twin nails
rub reddening ridges of nerves
raw, transmitting pulsating signals
to the hypothalamic center.
With every second of contact,
an orgasm washes up my spine,
centipedes tickling the vertebrae
with their expanding segmented feet,
and they plunge their heads
into my shriveled groin.
It fills like a rubber balloon,
the blood leaving the cephalic section
and malnourished thorax
to grease the Pavlovian motion,
that instinctive desire
we become conditioned to
before we escape the womb.
S.P. Flannery was born in La Crosse, Wisconsin and now resides in Madison where he writes poetry, reads to his son, studies microbiology and maintains a Web site about primates called "The Primata" (www.theprimata.com). His poetry has appeared in Poetry Salzburg Review, The Alembic, Straylight, Revival and Avocet.
