Don’t strain yourself reading into this, I’ll just tell you – it’s a metaphor for anxiety. That’s what it is. I’m anxious and thinking about sea urchins and writhing clenching things in my belly.
The tide goes out again, and leaves behind
a pack of things that should by rights have shells
prefer to be protected by the swells
They find the naked sun and air unkind.
The smaller ones still have something like legs,
bring water to creatures drowning in air,
dredge up the sand and rebury them there,
dig shallow channels for never-seen eggs.
From a distance, the largest looks like hair.
Up close, it’s a million writhing sinews,
each one knotted up and down and into
the convulsing mass,
each one strangled there.
Only got larger when the sea withdrew,
clenching ever tighter as the sun stares.