Red Tide

Ancient spirit, bronze
arms reaching, holding
on to some sandcastle
built before we arrive
at the beach, won’t tear
down. The crabs here are
small and yellow, almost
lemon creme with precious
skittering in and out of
waves, just as afraid
of getting feet wet. Modern
body and morale: an octopus
pulls a crab into the sea
and then it’s Goodbye crab.
Goodbye intracoastal,
manatee baths. Giant
conchs big enough to slice
the sun or mainland
in half… Futuristic mindset
isn’t enough to allow
hands to finally let go.


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