Lobsters

The tank by the entrance teems with lobsters,

their claws wrapped in rubber bands.

(Is a lobster lucky if it faces imminent execution

or if it lives another day?)

Our table is suffocatingly close to the

garlic and onions sautéing in the kitchen,

the sommelier polishing his silver tastevin,

and a family of eight to our left.

My heart is pounding

(like it did when I pocketed

a tube of prom pink lipstick)

as I gauge the expression on your face,

similar to a thermometer measuring temperature.

I focus on the whisker that unfailingly evades capture.

Let’s pretend it’s a typical early dinner

after a Saturday matinee,

keep the questions tucked away.

I’d rather watch you butter your bread

and follow the red wine stain spreading like the arc of a dancer’s arm.

Maybe share a chocolate mousse.  

Better yet, let’s go home.

(The cat needs to be fed

and the plants watered.)

Where your sweater is balled up on the floor

like a pill bug in a protective posture.

Tonight I will dream of

buckets of baby lobsters,

the sommelier aging in an oak barrel,

the family of eight riding a giant loaf of bread,

and my hands in rubber bands

unable to catch your errant whisker

but still reaching for your face.

 As a young girl, Melanie was entranced with William Carlos Williams’s The Red Wheelbarrow and knew she wanted to write poems. Words have power and writing them down helped Melanie find her own voice. Many notebooks and many years later, she began writing again during the COVID-19 pandemic. Melanie writes from British Columbia, Canada. Through imagery and detail, her vignettes explore the internal and external landscapes of life and what it means to be human.Her debut poetry book, Bread and Bone is available on Amazon.Find her on Instagram: @alohamonkeya