She pursed her lips, flinging
her hair, clearing her face- gathering
a bramble of fishnets and sea weed
at her back. Pale, pointed fingers wiping
salt off scales, she turned, said: How much
do you know? Have you stayed in the water long
enough to hear what song it has to sing?


Mermaid Song

She was the last – the only one
we could capture, limbs
weaker than the rest, teeth

chiseled, lacking
the sharp edges’ of her sisters’.
It was easy, stilling

the last of the sea-hurricanes
in our fishnets. We kept her
in an enormous bowl made of bone

melted with glass, impenetrable
to the voices of water. Don’t look at us
that way. We needed to live, swim

against the currents
of a world drowning
in dust and smoke. Slowly

Continue reading