Lobster

To be a lobster,

veiled in undercurrents, solitary,

each secret pulse held within cobalt eyestalks,

Is it akin to love? Some,

bound in coral hearths,

cradle a tide-eroded burrow, timeless.

My port overlooks the whispering abyss,

when my son anchors home,

he sleeps in his ancient berth, amidst sea-forged tales.

Often, he brings his hound,

a waif he found, christening me Dogma,

they leave as the tide, ephemeral,

I exist in the void, adrift,

to a gull's lonely lament.

From my galley’s weathered threshold,

I watch sun and moon's eternal duet,

living illusions of drifting 

on lobster claws, lines he and his cohorts

chalked when their world was a canvas.

Gathered sea-glass memories,

watching the Albatross

weave infinity into sky. 

Was my spirit anchored in my gaze?

Human eyes that crave slumber's solace-

to dream a touch, a boy's laughter,

now echoes in hollow chambers of time. Unfathomable,

what they seek now.