Monday, January 19, 2015

the last oyster

the last
oyster on the cold plate,
sits
in its stone
shell, rugged still
from the sea,
the salted
tongue of it
waiting to be held
and tilted
with a dash of
spice, swallowed
whole.
but not this last
one,
no takers at the table
to finish
what was left
for you and me.

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