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Dungenessque

Ron Charach
From:   Dungenessque. Signature Editions, 2001


Dungeness, Washington, The Olympic Peninsula

Crack me open like a crab
amused at the strange soft fur along my shell.
Tour my body
find the emotional limits,
dredge my character
for small signs of pretense;
you know they're there.
Haven't others glimpsed claws
beneath my hands?
You listen so closely,
stretching out my present against my past
on a long net,
laying bare . . .

Boil me live
in a scalding caldron
like you would a crab,
turning your head
as the claws fold in silently
and you wait for the soft clicking sound.
You can eat me tonight
or tomorrow, or the next night.
because the cooking's done;
all that's left is to analyze
what can and can't be consumed.
Tomorrow you and your analyst
will pick through the bowl of white flesh
from my brittle compartments.
There may be a joke or two,
"Who'd have thought the old boy
would have so much meat in him?"



Ron Charach's works copyright © to the author.


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