A Crabby First Dip
NaPoWriMo 23/30
Apr 23, 2026 · 1 min read


Not even May and mirages
scuttle above the dunes.
I brave a plastic pereopod
to tap on the lapping wave—
my legs may as well carapace
over in ice blue chitin.
My toes bolt in retreat,
ghost crabs to their holes.
Cover image attribution: By © Hans Hillewaert, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7658161
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