If I were a mermaid and you
merely man shipwrecked
at a boring party
you might hear me
practicing
more dolphin than siren
reluctant where sailors are
out of their depth. I might turn
my tail into legs and go
dancing
because I inherited from my mother
her bony frown of hips
her own singing slipping, many years
into rue
and small children, like livestock
I might only hold my face to the wind
or pull back a curtain of wave to watch
you put a record on, Herbie Hancock’s
Maiden Voyage: you on the balcony
sharp toed shoes tapping out the music
of watery chords I hold to my ear like a shell
Image provided by Thomas Hawke under the Creative Common License Attribution Non-commercial 2.0
