Do you Have Room for a Hermit Crab?
Ten little legs leave trail on sand,
Follow me home, It’s just round the bend,
Find sea-shell discarded; feel it in hand
Ten little notches, brail for friend
Meet me at shore, at break in the sand;
An empty locket from one night spent
Broken in two, no picture of you -
Leave it behind, no salt in your wounds.
Trail turns cold, no friend to follow...
Legs grow stiff and heart grows hollow.
There’s room to live in hallowed chest
Ribs are a cage, a swallow’s nest.
No heart inside? nor ravenous fire,
Just string lights that twinkle to own desire
No hearty meal? Crack ribs with a thump.
Tear flesh with bone, your baggage to dump -
Another home that little legs carry
No place to discard, Charon to ferry,
Boat growing heaving, descending to bed...
Inklets of brail in language once dead;
Ten little legs that found a new home
Not made from seashells, lockets, or bone,
Etched in the stones from angry sea-foam
Labyrinth of hallways to call one's own.