The Lure

Ten, we tied chicken necks to strings; our clumsy hands
forming clumsy nooses forming

deep ridges in the quiver pink flesh. We pulled


we felt the loop’s bite


against the rubbery firmness of bone. Then we hung the necks

from the pier and waited, net ready, for the tell-tale tug,


to yank the string upwards and expose

the tiered crabs


to their prize like a cluster of tenacious grapes,

all red and brown, the colour

of salt dried blood.


Sonia Hamer


Sonia Hamer is a writer from Houston, TX.

© 2019