A man who has become very dear to me encouraged me to started writing again. He wondered what I would write now that my life - inner and outer - is so different. I said I was mostly writing bad poetry that shouldn't see the light of day. Then write a good book of bad poetry, he said. I laughed, but the thought - and title - stuck with me. So here, world, is a first installment on a good book of bad poetry! (And this poem was accepted into a collection published by the Sandwich Arts Alliance so maybe it isn't too painful.....)
Ruby and a Horseshoe Crab
Trotting easily down the beach
The soft sand no match
For her youth and strength
The sea silver, like mercury from an old thermometer
The waves small, but just noisy enough
To give sound energy to the air
The wind coming from the east
From behind her
The eel grass piled up at the high tide mark
The color of wet oak leaves or coca cola or
Thanksgiving gravy before the flour is added
Smelling of life and death at the same time
The eel grass offered a feast of smells
Her brindle coated posture wore
The absolute impossibility
Of any increase in happiness
She passed without seeing
A huge caramel colored horseshoe crab
Three feet later she froze and let her nose
Arc her body back to the prize
Legs following their leader with no hesitation.
She poked it with her long, black muzzle
Once, twice, three times
Before the courage to grab took over
She tried the shell but couldn’t
Get a quick hold.
It all had to be done quickly in case this thing
That seemed dead, wasn’t
Her shy teeth slipped off again
She went for the tail
She got a mouthful of sand instead
She bounded a retreat, as if stung
Shaking her head, spitting the sand
Reassessing, but only for a second
She dove in again from another angle and
Faster this time
Missing the target, she dove again, success!
Pulling the crab up from the sand
Shaking it a bit to prove
To herself it was not alive.
She had to lift her head so high
To keep the huge crab from dragging
That she couldn’t see where she was going
No matter
The prize was proof that joy
Is never finished giving
If you are willing
To be brave.
