Alki Point, Minus Tide

c. FEWalls

c. FEWalls

Amanda runs through the shallow waves

in her pink sun-suit and rubber boots,

yelps as she holds a crab,

its single pincher snapping.


Amanda grins and flashes the new front teeth

too big for the others; she sets the crab

down carefully among sea grasses,

the bud of its new pincher still safe to grow.


Amanda ignores the call from the shore

and the women from Vietnam bent-over

the tide flats placing crabs and clams

in plastic bags to sell.


Amanda smells like kelp in the sun.

Her hair damp, she licks salt from her lips,

squats in the shallows fingering the algae

and the roots of their hold-fast grabbing rocks.


The long blades of algae, brown, green, red,

bob on the waves with a strand of white

bleached out by age, sun, death.


Amanda stirs the sea lettuce.

She prods the starfish humped over a moonsnail,

its arms move slowly,

never tiring, never giving up.


Amanda stares at the abdomens of crabs

looking for the broadness of the female

hiding the ovaries. She misses

the red nipple of sea cucumber

wedged deep in the breakwater.


Amanda ignores her mother’s yell

from the shore, hands on hips,

“Lunch, Amanda, time to go,

right now, Amanda, time to go,

right now!”




About trillium24

“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand ... " Pablo Picasso
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