Photo by Nsey Benajah on Unsplash
my roses are yellow,
as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden,
who sits upon an amber throne
on beds of soft coral and garden eels,
who dances in the ripples
of a fragile water tease,
who caresses the cuttlefish
with fingers pearlescent and clammy,
who plays with the minnows
and sings them tepid lullabies,
whose bubbling laughter
finds broken ears and sinking flotsam,
whose shallow attempts at love
are devoured whole by kelp,
who demands demands,
and demands and demands,
whose salt white skin
is flawed by a fishtail and glass
eyes and yellow hair as
cracked and dry as my roses.
