The fruits of the sea.(Poem)

 
The fruits of the sea 
 
   First time we've met, her ex-lover boy and I, seated together, 
   both of them long settled in other beds. She's in the kitchen: 
   thin hands, bumpy knuckle bones of the dancer she once was, 
   picking over halibut chunks, squid, mussel flesh, 
   whatever she fancies, crab meat last. In Barnegat, 
   my first time out, the traps rattled with blue crabs 
   hooking the cage, clawing themselves--the sea rang 
   like her pots and pans and heirloom silverware. 
 
   I knew the story he didn't tell, about their young affair. 
   Unfinished images: heavy-muscled braid to her waist, leggy, 
   toe shoes pegging their marks, finding in that body in the mirror 
   the desired line. On the water, I knew the sun pressing my back 
   would hurt, and she later said that while the Love God and I jawed, 
   the new wife dropped by the ...