Oyster World You massacred those oysters when we were girls, wrenched them from the river mud despite my pleas that oysters can feel pain, that I could feel their suffering as you beat them with a blunt rock until nothing but iridescent black shards littered the limestone. You said they were invasive, you said they were pests, words plucked from your mother’s lips about the new girls in our school, girls from the city who didn’t go to bible study...
