Poetry,  Published Submissions

Crabs in the Sand, by M.R. Bessac

Your mouth is a rabid dog. It sneers and titters,
swishes sticky saliva. Starving. Snickering sweet
nothings. Your touch is a disease. Contagious. When one crop spoils,
and the rest fall. Charcoaled. Rotted. Sleeping next to you
in a sweaty haze, stomach gurgling. Hypnosis. Doing things I wouldn’t.
I walked next to you. Stinky southern beach. Fisherman with long
whiskered creatures leering in the early morning sun.
Sand squished in between my toes. Dead skin freshly chewed.
The crabs hidden in the dunes. Your footprints ceased.
The heaviness in your heart contradicting the absence of dents
in the sand. Anti-Christ. Your eyes. The color on the Missing posters.
I stapled against. Telephone poles. Crows cawing down at me from the lines.
Dying oak trees. Leaves shuddering against me. Roots tripping me on my way out.
Getting lost isn’t the right word. Whirlpool. Reminiscent
of white-cap waves. Swirling six-year-old me in circles. Strong current.
Miles in gaping blue. You were a surfer. I couldn’t bring myself to beg
you to rescue me.

– M.R. Bessac

M.R. Bessac is a writer from Hawaii and Texas. When not writing, she does track and field as a junior in high school. Her poems have been selected for Editor’s Choice in Teen Ink. She enjoys vanilla perfume and Liquid IV.