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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=518411" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Crab</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I eat crab, slide the rosy<br>rubbery claw across my tongue<br>I think of my mother. She'd drive down<br>to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a<br>huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to<br>crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the<br>pliers broke those chalky homes, wild-<br>red and knobby, those cartilage wrists, the<br>thin orange roof of the back.<br>I'd come home, and find her at the table<br>crisply unhousing the parts, laying the<br>fierce shell on one side, the<br>soft body on the other. She gave us<br>lots, because we loved it so much,<br>so there was always enough, a mound of crab like a<br>cross between breast-milk and meat. The back<br>even had the shape of a perfect<br>ruined breast, upright flakes<br>white as the flesh of a chrysanthemum, but the<br>best part was the claw, she'd slide it<br>out so slowly the tip was unbroken,<br>scarlet bulb of the feeler&#8212;it was such a<br>kick to easily eat that weapon,<br>wreck its delicate hooked pulp between<br>palate and tongue. She loved to feed us<br>and all she gave us was fresh, she was willing to<br>grasp shell, membrane, stem, to go<br>close to dirt and salt to feed us,<br>the way she had gone near our father himself<br>to give us life. I look back and<br>see us dripping at the table, feeding, her<br>row of pink eaters, the platter of flawless<br>limp claws, I look back further and<br>see her in the kitchen, shelling flesh, her<br>small hands curled&#8212;she is like a<br>fish-hawk, wild, tearing the meat<br>deftly, living out her life of fear and desire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Anonymous submission.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sharon+Olds">Sharon Olds</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=518411" data-title="Crab de Sharon Olds" data-description="When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to
crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the
pliers broke those chalk..."></div>
</div>
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