Arthropods & Envy

This crab has a crust like the
skin of a scab,
shining like the scarab it was,
before Egypt was buried and
slapped from the grasp
of greatness.
This crab is covered in dust,
silver sand and small seashells;
regularly redecorated -
a sideways nomad.
Procrastinating and
weightless, waiting to be
coated in the tide
(the foam refuels it and
for a time, it will
no longer be dry).

That scorpion has a gloss like
the blush of a star, but
essentially it's a shield;
you are a knight in chitin armour.
That scorpion has perfect posture
for something so intimate
with gravity. Shaped like
fallopian tubes, it is
poised to deliver
anything.
It moves with more purpose
than the crab, because it knows
where it must be to deliver
the deciding sting.

(We are both female signs,
but male by design.
Both liquid, creeping signs
so fluidly divined.)

According to Hera,
this crab is brave but foolish,
loyal but fragile, and
cannot hope to be anything like
that scorpion, rumoured
to hold the sins of mankind in its venom.
Its legs are oiled with myth and age,
silent as the hinges on
the gates of Eden.
That scorpion is dangerous -
born with weapons,
its path is lit by war.
That scorpion does not ache for the moon
to inhale the shore, it has never heard
the promises that carry from
the horizon's lungs
every lunar day.

This crab admits jealousy,
scuttles further aside and waits
for the tide.

11/09/09