top of page
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
© Johnmichael Simon
2011
.
bottom of page