Poetry Intreprets Journey

by nonameharbor / Mar 08, 2009 / 1 comments

Mermaid Xing:

A sign posted in the corner of my mind.


On the Grand Bahamas Bank near the Tongue of the Ocean

We are utterly exhausted.

The scene and feel of this anchorage with no land for 30 miles,

Nothing in sight, is hair-raising when we think.


Russell Light a distant glimmer,

Fragile in the wet gloaming of wan moon.

Far north we see a mother drug-ship motor back and forth.


On cue, the dark wind rises. Six foot waves over the bow

From the southeast. We let out more anchor chain and line.

We and the cat sleep on the sole of the boat,

So we won’t fall out of bed.


I go on deck, shiver, look towards the ocean’s tongue,

Seven miles deep. A pod of satin-scaled mermaids

Swim toward the Snow Goose, still me

With their chants from Orkney.


Enchanting my ownself,

I tumble into the warm moonlit waves.

These fish-girls touch me, and I become one

With them.


Sing it sweet. Sing it low…

Our voices, soft lace and steel,

Comfort from the wind

For the man and the cat

In their cradle.








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