Mostly now we act like ghost crabs,
nocturnal, changing color with the tides,
communicating with waves and gestures,
you in harmonious symmetry and I
with my oversized man-claw, monstrous.
When I feed, moving my normal claw
from sand to mouth, it is like I am
bowing a hideous violin, this claw
from Hell, prodigious pincher for fighting
and the bruising old business of love.