A Risk of Lobsters

My son presses his freckled nose to the lobster tank,
watching blue-rubber-banded claws bob
and float without forward motion.

Are they a family? he asks,
counting ten in the tank.
I used to watch them too,

their ruddy alien exoskeletons,
but what could living mean
in water that dark?

A man in latex gloves opens the lid,
removes one of the largest, its eyes brighter
than they appeared in water, tiny wet marbles.

I’m about to tell my son to step back
when he puts his mouth to the glass
and whispers something to the bereft.

Rachel Becker teaches high school English and Creative Writing in the Boston area. Her poems have most recently appeared or are forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, New World Writing Quarterly, Funicular Magazine, and RHINO. Find her @rebecker30 (instagram) and rachel-becker.com