Sweet October Oysters

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

You wake up early

To make low tide.

The Ocean retreats for miles

A sand and seaweed prairie.

The wind ripples puddles of

Seawater in sparkling carpets.

Five inch Ocean Tankers float

On an inch of horizon.

Sea life skitters for shelter-

Star loots tide pools and carries sea rocks

As though they were sticks

Armed with flat-head screwdrivers

We hunt Oysters.

They grow like flowers;

Clinging to exposed granite,

Clinging to what was the Ocean’s floor.

Welcome to our world.

Pry at their razor lumpy shells-

You’ll cut your hand without leather gloves.

It feels good to wash the blood

In purple-sand salt water.

Work in your screwdriver.

Scrape away the polyps,

Only take the three year olds.

Chip away the young and stick ‘em

Cement side down into the sand.

If your eager excavation

Exposes her naked,

Slurp it from the shell alive;

October Oysters grow sweet

To keep from freezing.

It’s Halloween after all.

The air is cool and salty,

Releasing opaque memories-

Lined with gold and silver.

In such an expanse

The mind really begins to wander.


2 thoughts on “Sweet October Oysters

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