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Anne Sexton - Lobster
Work rating: Low

A shoe with legs, 
a stone dropped from heaven, 
he does his mournful work alone, 
he is the old prospector for golf, 
with secret dreams of God-heads and fish heads. 
Until suddenly a cradle fastens round him 
and his is trapped as the U.S.A. sleeps. 
Somewhere far off a woman lights a cigarette;
somewhere far off a car goes over a bridge;
somewhere far off a bank is held up. 
This is the world the lobster knows not of. 
He is the old hunting dog of the sea 
who in the morning will rise from it 
and be undrowned 
and they will take his perfect green body 
and paint it red.
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