I remember I lurked I watched from a grove of swaying weed as a lobster reared up above the urchin and flipped it with its claws. Upside-down its spikes were smaller were softer and I saw its mouth was weak was penetrable as I watched the lobster pull its flesh through the hole and a haze of filaments curled through the water and brushed against me and I touched it tasted it wanted it. I rippled slowly from the weed to the rocks above the lobster and spread my mantle wide and dropped onto it pulled it into me, engulfed it flapping flexing thrashing in my arms and held it held it held it tasting its panic its confusion its defeat as it went still. I thought about pressing the lobster crushing its armour in my beak but in its claws in its maw the urchin tasted felt looked so sweet so nutty. I dropped the lobster let it scurry beneath the rocky ledge and I dipped the tip of my arm into the urchin’s mouth and curled a wedge of flesh out and pressed it to my beak and it was spongy was bliss.

I jet back to the urchin and float above it and know it is spiny is bristly is poisonous. I need a lobster to flip it for me or something to flip it for me, something to flip it with? A rock to flip it with? I feel I see starlight brush my skin and I scatter sand as my arms unfurl, searching searching searching, and over there—what is it?

Sand sprays as something stomps, punctures the surface and scatters air in bubbles. There is a crash and a thrash and a thrash and eddies curl and swirl and I taste that it is a she like me, but she is not like me, and she becomes still becomes drifting becomes floating and the surface laps against her, swirls about her.