Something to Eat on a Cracker

Far from the sea,
The memory of waves,
From each shell drifts into the wine.
A cloud of steam erupts;
A smell my mother calls,
Horrible.

To me it smells of tidepools,
Washed in brine, and teeming,
With strange life: many eyes,
And bright shells, and seaweed.

I pour in the salty water,
That drips from the cracked shells,
Mixing it with olive oil,
And alouette and garlic,
While a boil rises.

Once we dug, barehanded,
In rough brown sand,
Chasing a trail of bubbles,
That disappeared into the sea.

Now peeling side from side,
Held together tightly by,
The tenderness within,
It seems strange and alien,
A creature from the sea.

Seasoned with lemon juice,
And cocktail sauce, and salt;
Now it is unrecognizable,
Something to eat on a cracker.