Monday, November 3, 2008

Crabs


Last night I dreamt I had crabs,
Not tiny, twitching insects
But big, bright-pink pincer crabs,
Plastic, with painted smiles
Like children’s toys.
I pulled them out of shallow holes in my upper leg
Like sand
One by one
And they crawled around the subway floor.

That’s what I get
For tossing and turning myself to sleep,
Obsessing,
Wondering if the dull pain in my left side
Is kidney stones
Or ovarian cancer
Or food poisoning.

I wake relieved
To find it’s only my usual hypochondria,
And my disturbing, obsessive mental image for the day
Has turned from illness
To smiling crabs.

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