Crab

A crab washed to shore on Long Beach, WA

Crab

Shannon Laws

A foam washed wreckage to shore
breath-bubbles pop in the thin light

Early beachcomber fights the gulls
for a freshly delivered treasure

The minute before dawn you grab it’s back
Carry it to your kitchen for a slow boil

With a crack, a glut of juices spill out
Lips suck at the muscle and warm butter

An ear to the empty skin echoes the sea

 

What inspired you to write this?
a friend at my monthly poetry discussion groups asked

Well, I heard a line from some poem at an open mic.  It went something like, he sucks the juices from your claws, eats the muscles from her claws
I started to think about how the line could be used in a domestic violence poem about allowing another person to take your strongest parts, your claws, and devour them, you know, boil them for dinner

That sounds like a great poem!

Ya.  It could have been, but I couldn’t get it to work.
The right words didn’t come

So, WHY is the sea in the empty skin and whose skin is it?

The sound of the sea is in all things born in the sea.
In this story, it is a song that sings the memory of the crab

I don’t get it.

ya, the words didn’t come.
It needs new words

 

Poem: Visitor

A poem comes by for a visit
jumps, twists, turns
in the room of imagination
My pen begs to carve it
 beat in the meters
as placed prison bars
spaced inches apart
capturing an essence 
Truth:
You are not mine
Pockets turned out with no
proof of visit, no valet ticket
to retrieve after-party transport,
A bookmark fallen from the pages
of a story unwritten
I love you
Never knew you
I kiss it gently, wish it well
It’s form not scratched on my paper
send it on it’s way
to find another 
to seduce
~SPLaws
Polyhymnia, the Greek Muse of Sacred Poetry

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