fin ally

…

this maid? she’s mer.
see her spangled tail,
her eyelash salt? she
swims, she skims the
surface with her syll
-ables and song. give

her a moon spilled
dark, the quiet spark
of waking sun. she’ll
thread her lack
of toes into all this
black sand, hand you

the sky, all cobalt and
agreeably sane. you’ll
wish you were a fish;
she’ll long for legs, and
make herself a fine
fast friend in between.

 

 

..

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