My lover brought me a lobster
fresh from The Pentland Firth.
My lover wove the creel, steered the boat,
laid the trap, hauled the rope,
boiled the catch.
The lobster was beautiful,
pink naked in newspaper.
My lover said, the best is in the tail.
I tore the claws and knuckles, butter sticky,
sucking, licking, probing, splitting,
searching soft white meat.
shell broken, belly filled with seawater
I dreamed of the ocean floor
and my lover waiting.
2 thoughts on “My First Lobster”