Carnivorous crabs chase & conquer.
A fight, a victory, and one claw left behind – floating.
I remembered how my sister and I used to build hotels for lost crabs.
Only lost because our fingers plucked them from natural habitats.
No crippling loss, we decided, worriedly, taking only the smallest or brightest.
These crabs (the winners) fought, fed, and fucked,
Some hid in the sand to avoid the crab contact.
Sometime later I found myself amongst the crabs once again.
This time desperately uniting fragmented crab families.
The bright and young go with large and dull.
Instead of digging my nails into the exfoliating sand
I watch (eyes big) the tide pools, wind, turbulent splits the water,
Seaweed iridescent and flows with the current of the moon.
The fish and other creatures are shy, only crabs poking out.
Today the beach is torpid. Not even a breeze disturbs the water.
I am also still. My arms tremble slightly, but regain their composure.
The tide pools are brimming, full up on the stillness of the day.
Within, the creatures feel their power,
They thrash their swimmerets,
I, the lowly, lonely, bystander watch as the crabs interact,
Claws up, with their comrades.
Age 16, Grade 11
Saint Ann’s School