Maren Grossman

I said that I remember my first trip to the beach,

But mostly, I remember the horseshoe crabs,
primordial as they are.

I don’t really remember the ocean, but I remember

In an untidy pile under a table in a dark motel

To my small self, it seemed as if, for just a
moment, I possessed infinity:

An unnumbered embarrassment of horseshoe

Creatures from an ancient sea.

Timelessness itself.

I remember when they began to stink, in another
hotel room,

Mid-way betwen the beach and home.

I couldn’t keep them after all; the stench was too great.

My parents explained this to me, and I

But I also understood that I was not letting them
go because of their smell.

I would have kept them, despite the smell. They
were that precious.

But I had found eternity,

And you can’t take that home with you when you