Yellow Mama E zine

THEM

by John Grey

 

At the end of a long journey,

up the beach they crawl

like sand-crabs,

interrogating shells and footprints,

driftwood, the remains of castles,

pulling all the information they garner

into the shared mind.

At night, they feel the tug of the moon.

By days it’s the wind, blowing forever shoreward.

The folks in beach cabins are oblivious to their movements.

But they’re incessant, insatiable.

Though born and nurtured in briny depths,

they’re more at home here on the land.

I wouldn’t worry.

They’re tiny.

People unwittingly squash them underfoot.

Gulls gulp them down

with their usual bounty.

And they’re not dangerous,

unless will to survive is a threat to others.

You may even be living with some now

and not even know it.

They might be in your food,

bedded down in your sheets,

crawling under your fingernails.

Some could be nestling in your brain.

No need to spare a thought for them.

 

        John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S. resident, recently published in Midnight Mind, Novus, and Calliope. Latest books, Bittersweet, Subject Matters, and Between Two Fires, are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Levitate, White Wall Review, and Willow Review.

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       Bernice Holtzman’s paintings and collages have appeared in shows at various venues in Manhattan, including the Back Fence in Greenwich Village, the Producer’s Club, the Black Door Gallery on W. 26th St., and one other place she can’t remember, but it was in a basement, and she was well received. She is the Assistant Art Director for Yellow Mama.