Horseshoe Crab Lament Poem by Nancy Chambers

From ages of antiquity
My strange looks a mystery
I come in the month of May
To the shores of the Delaware Bay
To spawn with eggs to lay.
Anglers, on my back they turn
Leaving me in the sun to burn.
If I had a voice I'd scream and wail
When they flip me by my tail.
But in silent death throes I lie
On the beach to slowly die.
Why are anglers so horribly cruel
Release or eat should be the rule
For millions of years I did thrive
But with acts like these will I survive?
For next Spring to again arrive?