“The Little Mermaid Speaks”
Baby-tide,
death-tide.
The clean mouths
of newborns,
the clean bones
of memory—
a tossed prophesy
of swallow
& purge.
Seabirds.
My father’s swollen feet.
My swollen feet.
Doomsday,
Bloomsday.
I can still feel
my father’s hands
pulling my hair
into a rough ponytail.
My skin held
the smell of fish,
even in the prince’s
antechamber.
I was voiceless,
each step a stab.
Women do.
The nether
regions reached
by salt.
Yaupon tea
as a seasonal emetic.
A nutria
with a snake
in its mouth
trots through me.
A doe crashes
across this estuary
in the rain.
Whole cloth.
Sail cloth.
The briny expanse.
O swim in it.
Certain waters
I love, foam
of souls & wave-
turn. Cockleshells
& silverbells.
An acre of land
between the salt
water & the sea
sand. I was
a little girl,
peering through
a porthole,
untangling
silver minnows
from a throw net.