Author: Paul House

Poetry: Shellfish

For my daughter  Clea

 

I want to sit and watch her eat shellfish,

watch her dismember a lobster or a crab,

the pleasure on her face as she sucks the meat

from the claws, the sea-taste of the eggs and head,

the way she gives herself up to the joy of eating,

and cracking open the shells till there’s nothing left.

Not a routine business, as it is for me.

And anyway, I don’t like getting my hands sticky.





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Poem for Anna •  Mandelstam and Mayakovsky •  The Lighted Window  •  Alone with the Years •  The Poet Tires •  Something there is •  La Madrugada •  Postcard of a Golden Retriever •  Shellfish •  Miguel Hernandez •  At the Edge of the Ebro •  Gone •  Playing Cards •  That's Where I Belong •  An Abstract Perfection •  Pearls in a Glass •  Poem for Susie •  TLP •  Mornings in MalasaƱa •  Leo •  A Garbled Message •  Gnome •  Old Friends •  More About Penguins •  Ghosts •  Poem for Nelly •  Good Friday in Salamanca