Parallax—
a
phenomenon of viewing the same thing
from
different angles.
--for Taegre
Cook lobster in its own water.
And the mollusk. Clam
and oyster
or mussel or the odd handful
of periwinkle. A fist
of rockweed.
All pried from their perch.
Or dug.
Or baited & trapped.
Lifted to
bald air, whatever the weather.
Measured & kept,
measured & tossed back measured
depending on the scruple
of the procuring hand & the eye. Depending
on who is coming to
the beach feast. The
deep
pit in the sand, brick lined, is a heat
holder. The coals are
cold
covered with snow from October
through April, some years May,
though there have been times,
remember? there have been
times when the only way we could keep you
alive after you’d gone (you were gone so
so suddenly)
was to grope for that hold
& heave out the snow
& bring the dry daily
news & the slow burning hard woods
& the catch of the day,
break the ice at the edge of the beach
& haul the water up to the tidemark
& watch it all come to
boil while all us living
hold our
own
bowl of
lobsters groping for a solid
something &
tight lipped mollusks
and a
smattering
of snails
yet in their houses
& wait to pour them into the canner
of the boiling salt sea
wait for it to steam
wait for them to be drawn into and then out of
wait for them
to cool to
cool to cool
so that we
may
eat
