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if the human centipede had been constructed exclusively from mouths, leaving in reality a sequence of only two people with their mouths sewn together, not kissing but breathing in whatever air was stuck in the other's throat, and never able to pull themselves away

we would
have spun (with spin of golden
thread, or, maybe once a month,
of dizzy fall, too gone to care, to count) and
coiled together. lying spiraled,
pale, cramped: like root, or tight-crossed fingers—not twin lines,
praying for fortune, but meddling digits, scratching after scabs.
By Eric Eich



Eric Eich is a student, writer, and filmmaker who recently found his way to the Bay Area after eighteen years of incubation in Georgia. His work can be seen in Camel Saloon and Keep This Bag Away from Children, as well as at ericeich.com.