She always loved the ocean;

the foam adorning

the spines of the waves

with their brilliant

white.

The way the water

distorted and

stirred:

beguile and remembrance of

blood

once shed.

The sand moving to the

rhythm set

by the tide.

The sweet undertow carrying

out

filth, and

maybe compliance.

To her the shells

sang eloquently

(screaming, more like)

of what the nets have done

to their loves.

Sea stars and mussels

attach themselves-

(perfectly)

situated behind

the lobes of her ears.

Whispering secrets of the

sea

and her affairs.

Mountains encasing her,

subconsciously

in the confines

of this bay-

echoing the discreet call of her

(homecoming)

incarceration.

Hair

disheveled and

flowing-

groping and

touching the empty space

of this salty air

suffocating her pores

forcing her further

to the bottom

of the reef.

Skin

translucent and perversely

alluring.

Breasts contrasting the

flat nature of her abdomen.

A topographical map of her home:

this body of water

strewn across her sinuous frame.

A vagrant tattoo rudely plagued

among the very breadth of this

coral bed.

And her legs were never there,

never useful

always bare.

Her arms gracing the sediments

long

and leading-

swimming leagues and leagues beneath

her home.

And one day

when she finally did reach

the bottom

of the lonesome Abyss

her full,

twisted lips

grew mutinous

desiring the hallowed bottom

(the truest of depths)

all for herself.

And when her lips

lifted slowly
after her engagement

particles of sand

(too dark to see)

maliciously floated about her face

thrusting her back to the

surface

up.

Blood pumping

blue

through the veins of her-

conceiving the notion of her immorality.

And her lungs expanded

as mouth hit air.

Sent to the soft-murmuring tides

of her shores.

Tossed carelessly

on the sand

dry and malevolent

eating away at her skin

dissolving her sentimental jewelry
donated by generous friends
(once alive, now dead).

The sun erasing her memory,

stealing her

and ravaging her skin.

Her tail

slowly consumed by the earth

of this bay

sand skulking up every

inch

of her scales,

slowly thrusting every part of her beneath the surface

(of land).

And she tried to scream

but a sea star

from behind on of her ears

sealed her lips

shut.

And as the sun began to

set,

all that was above still were her eyes:

among dehydrated kelp and seaweed

dried by the late afternoon's

sun.

And the shells,

they ceased to

scream.

The ocean fell silent,

as the last parts of the mermaid's beauty-

her life-

were pillaged

by daylight

and contaminated by the air

we breathe.

Her body stolen beneath the earth,

submerged,

in essence.

And as she lay beneath the surface
of the shore,

so close to the ocean

she once humbly did treat,

she struggles to grasp

that eternity is forever.

And straight above her head she knows-

the only thing left is her crown.

And her legs were never there,

never useful

always bare.