Lobster Men of the Lauri Renée

~New Harbor

There is a beer, open, long-necked
on the dashboard and from the bin
that bears a skull and crossbones
they transfer fifty, maybe a hundred
twitching, antennae-headed lobsters
into buckets and crates, sorting them
probably by size, which, in lobster-speak
means beauty. The traps are not old,
but clean, unrusted. Two men stand
in the boat, two on the dock and lug
full bins a few feet. Weigh time,
rubber boots, empty bin, full bin. A sip
of beer, a hose, transfer, new bins.
It seems each bravely purple critter
has its place. But this is not

about the fate of lobsters or of men.
Instead, this is about a bottle of beer
and about Laurie Renée who left
for Newfoundland after Christmas
before the sun came back around, before
the new nets went out. She might
have kissed one of them or spent those last
hours weighing crates or slipping rubber bands
over claws or slugging around deck
in overalls and sunburn. But she’s
not telling whether the kiss was meant
for the lobster or for one of the men
or for the smooth neck of a lager or a stout.

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Amy Nawrocki

Amy Nawrocki

Amy Nawrocki teaches English and Creative Writing at the University of Bridgeport. She is the author of five poetry collections, including Four Blue Eggs, which was the finalist for the 2013 Homebound Publications Poetry Award.Her collection Reconnaissance was released in April 2015. In addition to poetry, she is the co-author of A History of Connecticut Wine, A History of Connecticut Food and Literary Connecticut. She lives in Hamden, Connecticut. Visit her at amynawrocki.org.
Amy Nawrocki

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