Under the setting sun of the carapace, its claws and legs snap like autumn twigs. Like T-Rex, I crush and spill everything across newspaper headlines on the kitchen table, clawing my way deeper into its body--its meat stuck under my fingernails and sea-breeze juice dribbling down my wrists and chin.
Welcome to the river!
ReplyDeleteThank you for adding me, Fiona! :)
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