Some use an icepick*
Joan holds them down -- stout stick or ham- mer handle,
pins each bony carapace --
seizes a convenient joint. Hand in/out like flash lightning,
she tosses them to huddle, seethe,
doused in water, vinegar and fiery season- ings,
lid slammed against their fury, tied or weighted.
She strikes the match, hears them scream – tensile keening extracted from center of consciousness --
they clamber across their fellows in frenzied panic.
But crustaceans are not like her,
all abysmal clatter and clack, galleried ranks of ruffled gill.
She does not identify with spacing of each petty synapse,
alignment of brutish ganglia.
*Some think it more humane to kill crabs by stabbing an ice pick through their brains rather than steaming them alive.