Deep in his watery grotto, the lobster mulls a poem by Antonio Preciado (of Ecuador). A poem called "Espantapajaros," which is "Scarecrow." It speaks of betrayal, the abyss, sin...angels bare-backed and angels with wings, and the author's fear of all angels (an echo perhaps of Rilke?)...
The poem ends this way:
"así que ¡salgan de mis pronto
el ángel desde arriba
y el ángel desde abajo!
que aquí se salva el mundo
pues yo me quedo al pie de este poema
como un descomunal espantapájaros"
Which, in my weak Spanish, is a cry to be quit of both the angels of heaven and the angels of hell, creating the gap within which lies the world's salvation...
"Because I rest here at the foot of this poem
Like an enormous scarecrow."
There's the gap made real...salvation in our inability to understand, because understanding is larger than our mortal minds?
The lobster does not know the answer, but he savors the final sentence, imagines himself an enormous scarecrow at the foot of the poem, extraordinarily large and rag-pied at the foot of the poem.
He's been savoring that mysterious sentence for weeks now...and hopes you will too.