Ghost Crabs

We chose a night the moon was full
to hunt ghost crabs. Our flashlights swept
the sand to find the crabs. We kept
our distance as we watched them pull

their prey apart. At home we see
a sanitized repast of beast on beast:
the tiger with gazelle as feast
presented from afar. And we

don’t hear the plover’s peep
or see the frantic flap of wing
or see the messy trail, the ring
of blood that’s left behind to seep

into the sand. But malice—none.
It’s only hunger satisfied,
What hunger brought us here? We sighed--
we’d come to see this kill for fun.