A Crabby First Dip

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