the mermaiden

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

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.