Still Life with Lobster
The lobster trap lays on the beach, broken
and useless for its intended purpose.
the top undone and lost at sea,
the intricate innards torn.
There are hints of its purpose still showing,
blue netting, torn.
here and there a flash of red claw, evidence
of failed escapes,
Lodged in sand, it waits
for the curious bystander to pull it loose
or a storm tide to toss it back into the sea,
a trap, no more.
You shudder. You have lived in your own traps,
and a sight of this remnant of wire and net
is a reminder too strong of your own helpless capture
by demons, not yours, but strong nonetheless.
You escaped, leaving only bits of yourself behind, bits
never grown back, but functional all the same.
a wounded creature of the sea
basking in the afternoon sun.
About this poem
One of the things I have learned in the past few years is that few of us are as together and unbroken as we seem, and yet there is good in our lives worth celebrating.
The picture was taken at Hampton Beach, New Hampshire.