Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twelve Winter 2006 |
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Bennett Beach Peter Grieco First calm day after a storm, the beach stinks of dead fish. You don't notice them at first but tiny flies are everywhere. All eyes on lapping waves tirelessly sorting slivers of countless bleached & broken mussel shells. A dog barks twice. Someone has stuck a switch of driftwood into the sand, flying flag- like the naked skull of some small mammal. |
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About Peter Grieco |