Alice Pero
Clams
When her thoughts are muddy
she goes to search for clams
down the long stretch of stinky sand,
oil-slicked to the sluice
where the clams hide their sour insides
around a hard shell
Her knife slices open to get the meat
and the mysterious hinge, how it holds
the life of it to keep it shut,
the more the life, the tighter the clamp,
as though its secret gave it license to
withhold itself from death
When the mind turns to muck
she looks for the hardest thing
to break open, to give sustenance
she walks softly down the long stretch
past the wheeze and itch of mind
digs deep to find hidden treasure,
a mollusk or lost purpose
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