brine and beauty
in the whorl of a nautilus,
the ocean murmurs like a lover:
she too is maddest beneath the pearl moon,
hurling her brackish heart against the shore
as she summons shipwrecks from her murky depths.
and the lighthouse merely blinks, saying nothing.
her tides gather what they can,
shallow footprints and sand script,
crestfallen to see the slivers of shells slipping through
her foam palms. she would claim the earth
with watery lips and tug down the mussel sky
if she could, just to watch stars slowly sinking
into her arms, lured by a siren's song
somewhere beyond the horizon line.
a/n: like the little mermaid, wading in the waves makes me feel as if I have come home again. june 27, 2010.