Horseshoe Crab
Liam Wholian | Poetry, Winter 2024
Dumb scuttlebone thing,
you are my father’s favorite color
& mine too: soaked
wood thick & shining.
If I could, I’d wear my bones
on the outside like you
& never swim again,
how I’d drop my chin & crawl flush
against the sand— what certainty! to be
445 million years into the word brackish,
taking my ten-legged time
on the beach, daring gulls
to crack their beaks on my skin
while tourists watch &
I give nobody a reason to know
my blood dollops blue, & so bright.
___________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“Logistically, I'm not sure we could survive writing poems if they were body fossils. But a trace fossil, an imprint of the animal rather than the animal itself, gives us some leeway. We can leave a footprint and go on living. At its best, this poem collects imprints I worry might otherwise not be preserved. I'd love to say I only write trace fossils, but that can't be the case, as not every footprint, trail, burrow, or trace fossilizes. A couple get lucky, like this poem, which is an ode of sorts to the horseshoe crab, an attempt to preserve the little footprints they make on the beaches of my home which wash away in minutes, the imprint they make on me, and the imprint they make on most of us. Horseshoe crab blood is an essential ingredient in the Limulus Amebocyte Lysate test, which is used in testing the effectiveness of vaccines. If you've ever been vaccinated, it's in your blood too.”
Liam Wholihan's other poems appear in The Dewdrop, Kelp, Red Noise Collective, Quail Bell Magazine, and others. He uses his MFA in poetry to teach creative writing at Point Park University and drive a Zamboni.
Horseshoe Crab
Liam Wholihan | Poetry, Winter 2024
Dumb scuttlebone thing,
you are my father’s favorite color
& mine too: soaked
wood thick & shining.
If I could, I’d wear my bones
on the outside like you
& never swim again,
how I’d drop my chin & crawl flush
against the sand— what certainty! to be
445 million years into the word brackish,
taking my ten-legged time
on the beach, daring gulls
to crack their beaks on my skin
while tourists watch &
I give nobody a reason to know
my blood dollops blue, & so bright.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“Logistically, I'm not sure we could survive writing poems if they were body fossils. But a trace fossil, an imprint of the animal rather than the animal itself, gives us some leeway. We can leave a footprint and go on living. At its best, this poem collects imprints I worry might otherwise not be preserved. I'd love to say I only write trace fossils, but that can't be the case, as not every footprint, trail, burrow, or trace fossilizes. A couple get lucky, like this poem, which is an ode of sorts to the horseshoe crab, an attempt to preserve the little footprints they make on the beaches of my home which wash away in minutes, the imprint they make on me, and the imprint they make on most of us. Horseshoe crab blood is an essential ingredient in the Limulus Amebocyte Lysate test, which is used in testing the effectiveness of vaccines. If you've ever been vaccinated, it's in your blood too.”
Liam Wholihan's other poems appear in The Dewdrop, Kelp, Red Noise Collective, Quail Bell Magazine, and others. He uses his MFA in poetry to teach creative writing at Point Park University and drive a Zamboni.