Skeletal gesture,
brittle carapace
petrol blues and greens;
these delicate crabs,
flung from deep-sea zones
victims of roguish waves.
On a winter's walk
we cross these tapered creatures
spread-eagled on Conrad's beach,
past small boulders sprung from stilled lakes
draped and caped by ice tentacles
within frozen tents,
poised...and silent.
We chant aloud,
first whispering airs,
then passionate verse
called out in foreign tongues,
emanations from the centre,
a ruse for staying warm
in challenging cold.
Heads plunged downward
we keep our spirits,
independent of sand and wind.
Suddenly we focus on pinks, purples
and chalky whites of ground-up mussel shells,
recording ocean talk.
Waves lap gently at our feet despite the battering winds.
Sand sheets and beach debris fly horizontal,
these lashings pass unfelt by our numbness
this Christmas in Halifax,
once joined to Africa.
Halifax, Nova Scotia 2000
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