In Appreciation of Guy N. Smith
by George Mansfield

Scuttling sideways- molluscs of death,
Edging towards me, I draw my last breath.
Razor sharp pincers caress my thigh,
As the crabs proceed to make person-pie.

A slit down my torso,
The beast takes his time-
"A screaming buffet?
This shall be just fine"

A violent thrust, the crabs are elated,
The ravenous bloodlust, their needs must be sated.
A sickening plop as my guts hit the floor,
The feast has begun, they're eating the gore.

My entrails before me- a pile of red.
How long will it take before I am dead?
The sea-dwelling monsters crunching my bones,
Can no one hear my pain induced groans?

The carcass is left an empty shell.
The Crabs return to the pits of Hell.