Water surface cracks like cleaved granite.
A gull bolts through the fissure and enters the sea.
There is little time for the crab to reflect
on the elemental transition.
Its legs flail – a weak gesture of exultation
in air, antigravity that turns to SOS
in muddled semaphore and grows less comprehensible
as meaning, order are plucked away
like twisted, tweaked-off legs.
Between the wash and sweep of one wave
and the next, vacancy is complete.
A carapace with a hole the shape of a love-heart
dries beside a discarded claw
in a brief sketch of chaos in the sand.
© Sarah Day