Cats have their nine lives but I
have my nine eyes. Two devour
the shallows for a mate. Others wake when
my thousands of laid-eggs are ready
to break. Underbelly vision steers me
from silt below, and tail sensors synchronize
the shifting ebbs and flows. Five together
hunt the ocean’s night, side-eye sharks
and greedy gulls, scavenge the sandy heat
for smaller crabs than me. You see yourself
as bigger, but my eyes uncover
the new moon’s light, never forget. I am
millions of years before your time.
Step aside.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 25, Issue 6.
Christine Jones lives in Orleans, MA and is the author of Now Calls Me Daughter (Nixes Mate Review, 2022) and Girl Without a Shirt (Finishing Line Press, 2020), also co-editor of the anthology, Voices Amidst the Virus: Poets Respond to the Pandemic (Lily Poetry Review Books, 2020). She is the founder/editor-in-chief of Poems2go and associate editor of Lily Poetry Review. Her poetry can be found in numerous journals and anthologies in print and online.
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