More dead stuff now it's those crabs
with eighteen eyeballs – skyballs on stalks,
periscope glass-eyed Mary's, body parts
litter the beach like cracked faces
looking back from the sand
I shake my claw at the sky, defiant old man
still skittering sideways through life and you
let go my hand, slip into the tide a fish –
school away – sunlight echoing off your laughter,
your voice receding in sonar pings
Because I said it was time to leave this place,
return to the city, reverse migration
of the gannets – streaming in flights
back to their roosts in the tiny rock warrens
of Manhattan
Searching for you from above the water,
my wingtips brush the tops of the waves
hoping you feel my touch like cool sheets
drawn back from your shoulders.
I dive, transform,
but you are not fooled
by my clownfish act, my doll-fish face
a lethal disguise –
how I would pull you from the safety of the sea
and leave us both fighting for breath.
If I fail us, then return me here.
When at dawn the dogs come
to leap in the waves and devour
the broken promises of crabs,
do not deny their pleasure –
leave them to roll in my ashes.
The Sunday Muse
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qbit 
LOL! I can’t blame you, given the image at hand… and the impending migration.
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Your first stanza had me cringing, qbit! You are a wordmaster.
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Hands across the water, wingtips across the sea? What’s an old crab to do but do whatever might work to avoid becoming the reason some pet owner shouts, “No, King, stop rolling in that!” Let’s give that crab one big hand, folks.
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“No, King, stop rolling in that!” – I also want that as a blurb on my book. Might even be the title.
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lmao!
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You have given a sheer brilliance to a gruesome scene Qbit! So many sticky and magnificent lines! I love and still must cover my eyes not to see where the image took you! I say Manhattan is not so bad. LOL Amazing writing as always my friend!!
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Thank you so, so much! Always great to have you stop by!
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Gone to the dogs, a good write. I loved the gannets returning to the “tiny rock warrens of Manhattan.” Its like a puzzle where on Manhattan that might be. Until and unless I dream of this I will settle on the Battery Park area, also one of my loves with fond memories.
..
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Ah, yes, pick your favorite rookery in Manhattan!
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this poem slips and slithers through the surrealistic, giving glimpses of familiar things like love and sex and death! Made me feel like I was being thrown back and forth between shore and retreating surf – marvellous!
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Thank you!!
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Skyballs on stalks – what a glorious image of all things crabby. Your writing told a graphic tale awash with imagery to delight in. A most enjoyable read, thanks 🙂
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So many brilliant images in this, all infinitely relatable even tho bizarre, or perhaps because they are, and the world and the shells we inhabit are also. I especially like the third through final stanzas, with their strong phrases of both alienation and love; the clownfish can’t compete with the safety of the sea, the refuse of our lives staring back up from the sand, a source of play and amusement to dogs who will always be happier than we are. Loved this, qbit.
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Thank you so much!
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As is my wont …. how I would pull you from the safety of the sea and leave us both fighting for breath … call me hopelessly romantic. Stellar write, qbit.
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Thank you!!
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Luv this truly surreal drama of letting go
My favourite image
“rock warrens ”
Happy Sunday; thanks for dropping by, to read mine
Much💜love
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Reading this, I feel I have stepped into the mind of Salvadore Dali. Excellent!
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rich in symbology, there is the anguish of separation and the hope of return. beautiful poem
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You have a novel in this poem. We live in a garbage heap these days of our own making and dream of wings to carry us away and give us a means to act on our savior syndrome.
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Thanks!!
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This was excellent my friend, so well written, and engaging — begged to be read through! Very cool!
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Thank you!
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Caught up in the both the image of the life at the beach until the final withdrawal at the end. You paint an amazing internal and external flight.
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Thanks!!
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“Searching for you from above the water,
my wingtips brush the tops of the waves
hoping you feel my touch like cool sheets
drawn back from your shoulders.
I dive, transform, . . . ”
I love the crab-sideways references,
and the above stanza is excellent.
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Thank you Sarah!!
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I am thrilled you resurrected this poem … yes, I am still a hopeless romantic.
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Fantastic! I love the dog rolling in the crab, and loved your and Shay’s reference to a possible title just as much.
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Write on my friend! 👍🏼
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Feigned bravery to be foiled. All in vain, back to the beginning except for the one in ashes.
..
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This is one of your finest Qbit! So many lines that tug the heart and brain all at once!!! It was wonderful revisiting, like seeing a long lost friend again!!
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