On the stove
Onions melt to translucence
And potatoes bubble in bacon fat
Across the kitchen
An uneducated hand
Clasps a clam
In its palm
Hovering above a bowl
The hand's accomplice
Holds a short knife
And pushes the blunt edge
Into the gaper's mouth
The blade presses
And twists
To open the shell
Which snaps
And a broken piece
Falls into the bowl
Filled with clam juice
Still struggling
To extricate the gold
Meat from the shell
The hand presses
And twists
The thumb slips
And a crimson blossom
Grows on its tip
Stinging from the sea's salt
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