The Mermaid Maiden of the Mojave

She comes in fin
and fire, a dust cloud 
of reality and a wave 
of want. A siren 

song with creosote roots.
A tail spangled in crushed 
crimson stone. She comes 

alone, but I know there 
must be more, and some 
oasis where they all might 

swim. She invites me in 
to this cobalt sky, a tide 
of clouds. A prayer for rain.  

::
Day 25 for NaPoWriMo.

Day Twenty-Five

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