Chelicerate

Chelicerate 4/13

These armored spiders
crawling broken-backed
across the sand are some
sort of metaphor!

At night there is a glow
in the waves – the jellies
are huddling from a storm
out at sea

We cannot mesh the sun
and the death the rolling
foam of salt and coral
with the sound of guns

I scrape my toe on edges
of reef – on door hinges
and I think about glass
breaking in shop windows

All along the world there
are people hoping some
for peace and some for
takeover