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Tails and claws in reefs with opiates for pain,
Bad sight, ten legs and dollar profits to be made.

Prior to their own demise, they dined on fish and mollusks,
To savor and munch away with epicurean palettes.

Galleys rattle while lobsters kneel and pray,
“Boil!” and “Cut!” Chef Lemon-Snow would say.

Tears bubbling away in ancient silver pots,
Chef Lemon-Snow the hungry, backdrop.

Bluebloods in pails toiling to resist the boil,
Antenna’s steaming, to find their destiny with olive oil.

Simmering delicious fare, extravagance to savor,
Lobsters expire while Lemon-Snow seeks the flavor.

Proud crustaceans once gray now boiling red,
Scented mist of mild aroma, ravenous we fed.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 2/9/2011 9:12:00 AM
Congrats on your feature this week Julie. Love, Carol
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Date: 2/7/2011 4:47:00 PM
It's been a while but the memory keeps me going. We had lobster for our anniversary. Congrats on having your "Lobster" featured. Vince
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Date: 1/22/2011 3:14:00 PM
I feel sorry for those lobsters when they just thrown them in boiling water alive, from what I"ve heard. That aside, I enjoyed this poem. Your writing is more mature than the usual I see here. Love that you punctuate your sentences of these longer poems. Luv, Andrea
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Date: 12/12/2010 12:57:00 PM
A very nice piece!
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