Poison Oak
Rent from DeepDyve- Poison Oak
The oil in it, urushiol, binds with the skin to bake a crust, flaky and red. Dermatitis,doctors say, trying to bind it with learned
syllables: the flesh turned rough, as if sand- papered or singed, the itch embeddedlike fly larvae, wriggling. I’d rather
scratch, and bear the self-destructive pain, than feel urushiol’s war galleys rowacross my leg, galling with each stroke.
It’s worse than a trillion fleas, lice, no-see-ums—worse than water torture,every drop an urge to shove into a buzz
saw’s rend/slash/tear, a frenzied friction from which no climax comes.It’s sequoia’s itch as orange shelf fungus
chews through bark—itch of ocean’s blue face erupting in waves—itchof the earth, quaking to shake human
eczema off its skin—the itch in atoms splitting to e = mc2’s rip-roaring tune—itch that, eons back, broke out in life [End Page 146]
that drives our kind to frantic action every morning, then to bed—exhausted,scratching—every night. [End Page 147]
Charles Harper Webb’s most recent book is What Things Are Made Of (U of Pittsburgh P). He teaches creative writing at California State University–Long Beach.
