Sirens and Deathless Beasts

Long ago ear drum burst means I cannot dive,

to the dark midnight blue waters of warm oceans

and see the sirens and deathless beasts.

I am in a suburban swimming pool, North Texas,

with a young woman, long dark hair, milky, lithe,

stronger than me, blue and white swimsuit.

I still have the gear, I still love the water, though lost,

and these shallow, azure waters have their own sirens,

with her hair, with my heart full of lust and wonder.

Under the water, I catch as she, angel and swan,

dives in, pulling up like the arch of paradise,

and looks into the camera, eyes open, smile radiant.

I film her as she swims and becomes a more perfect girl,

gone to wonder in this sprawling, mercantile emptiness,

money every dream, money every sin.

Filming her, in this moment, in the western sun, August,

She in blue and white, becomes Eve and Siren, and joy,

a child of a more ancient, more wild and angry race.

Later, all the filming done, we lay on cartoon character

beach towels, passing a joint between us, and without

touching, we become the stars above us in the night

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