Tuesday, 30 August 2011
{Crab in a Polystyrene Crate}... a month of poetry...
You are spiking rocks green-fed
in flaking ice-bed so far from
your tepid rock-pool mouth
with its tender fringe of algae.
Crab in a polystyrene crate,
your eyes are still so impossibly small,
but does your side coded disc-brain, ridged,
remember minnow crushing Sundays,
your sisters' hands like stinging orchids
as they were lifted in the swash?
Discs on a dead sailor's femur,
humpbacked quicksteps.
Dead crab in a polystyrene crate,
for sale on the market stall -
do the eels beside you sometimes writhe
through their rubber death damp?
Ask you why you didn't try harder
to snap the ropes,
un-net the nets?
Amy Blakemore
Labels:
Free Thinking,
Poetry
1 comment:
I treasure each and every one of your comments.
Your kind words never fail to bring a smile to my face:)
At the moment I am going through a busy season of life with 5 girls under my wing! I may not always be able to respond immediately but please know that every word left here is read and appreciated deeply.
xx
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh, I like this one and think I will use it during our lessons. Crabs are a big deal here and I think my son will 'connect' with this poem. Thanks. xx
ReplyDelete