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THE OYSTER

By Claire LeMaster



I wait for the sunrise, you for the set

The dark always met you warmly like the wet flesh of an oyster

 

But me, I irritated in that cave

Restless, pacing while you painted her little room coral pink

put up shelves and hung pictures, built a home

 

I still ache to open wide and let my long tongue lick the curve of my shell

And taste saltwater summers

a thunderbolt of lightning behind clenched teeth

 

I roll and gnash and flop from room to room

Wrapping myself in ever more socks and scarves and blankets

Filling every corner with artificial suns

Sod the bills

 

I know someday it will all come rushing back

Like the cold shock of sea foam drowning on sand

And I will be cracked open and called precious

As though my restless cancer was no more than

A small inconvenience to form a pearl


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