Polite Pause

Prawns,

floating commas in

the tidal way of things,

eyes bulging the full stop

as the net drops.

We complain

sweet morsels are

a pain to peel,

much like meaning in

conversation over dinner.

Just don’t forget

to take the rubbish out.

Dead prawns like tide and time

wait only for

the exclamation mark.

J.R.McRae

• Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #25