POEM TITLE
Lobsters at Ostend
POEM
They still imagine a life,
escaping across the blue-sea
surreal floor of the holding tank
outside the seafood restaurant
a short hop from the beach.
Morning sun casts shadows
on their fancied flight,
in their small gratis aquarium
fed by the constant oxygen's
clear deceiving stream.
Antennae sounding suspect depths,
they yet engage bound claws
in skirmish over margins
none can win, but all must cede
to new arrivals off the evening boat.
By then they will encompass
strange, eclectic china seas,
uncharted reefs awash with Muscadet
that lie quite unexpected, unimagined
round a corner of their compound eye.