The Blue
Low Point, Nova Scotia.
The fishing boat crew
enjoy a hullabaloo:
their catch, a blue lobster.
It’s pure outlandish –
a gene mutates, one
chance in two million.
They won’t cook this:
in fishermen’s lore,
a lobster of such indigo
signals prosperity,
good hauls offshore,
no fires below.
Luck, be a lobster for me.
Listen to A.B. Jackson reading this poem on location in Sheffield:
This is the second of six sonnets to be uploaded as part of The Rose of Temperaments. A ‘variant’ text, with additional input from Angelina D’Roza, appears here.
The Rose of Temperaments | Poetry and Colour 