Crab Thermidor

Two hermit crabs

cramped into a single shell

waiting for the crunch

of a giant’s crusher

 

The larger cursing

as he felt doomsday approach

pincers clashing

invective

briny streams of defiance

 

The other

muttering

from some corner

underneath

 

how interesting

 

those fingers

you cringe from

you imagine to be

sharp, slimy, fetid

 

turn out to be

 

soft, sticky, like

discarded gum

dollar notes clinging

to them

 

smelling faintly

of over chewed

compliments

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© Johnmichael Simon

2011

.