Crabeater Seal

Teeth that are cathedral windows, that are lace,a doily spread over a side table beneath a photographof you, beneath a chipped cup filled to near spilling.

The selkie’s teeth are made of porcelain, scuffedby usage, and they curve and curl around the throatsof men. Serrated and sharp enough to crack the shells

grown over meat, teeth that are made for eating, madefor filtering words. The selkie has much to say, yet theykeep quiet until they are alone. Under the guise of starlight

the selkie sings all the woes and wishes and wants keptunder their tongue. This, a moment of renewal. Thisbeing an agreement with their teeth to stay vigilant,

to stay. Teeth that grow far from the teeth of fingers,from the ice grown under nails, a sculpture built ina cave of the juncture between keratin and flesh, between

crab and eater. I saw the selkie only once, when theylounged on a damp bed of grass beside a frigid sea.Their lips parted, and I watched their teeth catch each word.