Urchin

Senseless
unaware
as the sea assaults the shore
Aristotle’s lantern
shines no more
Is this a test?
Your final place of rest?

Incorrigible children scatter
scour the driftwood-strewn,
cement gray coast
for corpses
egg shell skeletonned,
space ship shaped,
palm-sized
forms
spines shorn
shades of green
like artichoke leaves
the lichen
that grows on local trees

Once a formidable foe
bristlyspiny from head to toe
long since left defenseless

You await
your fate
fodder for the land
as the beach’s sand
where you lie
while the urchin
cries,
“I found one!”

You contemplate
your fate
dust covered, fading
on a mud brown
windowsill
Maybe shared (carefully?)
for show and tell.

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