Tag Archives: aquarium

Mermaids Every Summer

The aquarium, soft and shining blue as the captive fish swim and turn away,

from us all.

Little children with happy mothers watch in awe at the bright fish, watch them

with encompassing grace.

In an hour, mermaids, women in silicone tails so bright in hue, will come and

perform for us.

Wave and smile and blow heart shapes in bubbles from blown kisses, as happy

songs play.

I come for mermaids every summer, in love with others half way between loss

and home.

I sit in the back of the gallery in front of the tank where they will perform for us,

stake my place.

I listen to sad and longing songs on my earbuds, waiting, the blue soothing, gentle,

as believing children

make a better claim on summer, holding onto the hands of their happy mothers,

who remain earthly.

A little while to go, and the mermaids will come to perform, and a childhood I

discarded will come close.

Sad and longing songs on my earbuds, the blue the only soft light left anywhere,

and summer is here.

 

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Ever Tender Light

She walks in the blue shimmering light of the aquarium.

Muted and soft, wavering over her, softening dark eyes.

Dance of shadow on jacket slits for her lost angel wings.

We watch the mermaid show among enraptured children.

Bright tails and otherworldly smiles and crowns of gold hair.

The children can touch the world beyond the water; Heaven.

We feed the rays, and she remembers her first emanation,

when God took her by the hand to show her all of His creation.

She remembers how she’d spent a sweet eternity lost at sea.

We sit watching various creatures swim and look curiously

into the blue, vibrant and hushed blue, like His ever tender light.

She takes my hand in hers, whisper those words that answer birth.

Weight Reassuring

November.
Long Vespa ride,
Mountain tourist town.
Her weight, soft parka, hands around me.
Calming in the cold. In the grey morning.
The wind is a hissing whisper.
Still people around.
Changing leaves. Christmas time.
Red and yellow leaves so bright.
A little boy smiles at her.
Shyly hides behind his mother’s leg.
We go in the aquarium.
Dim and blue, the water of the womb.
Womb of the ocean we were born in.
Womb of the fang, hunger and light.
We hold hands. Weight reassuring.
Mermaid swimmers at noon.
We sit close. She is momentarily childlike.
Just happy in innocent fun. Wide eyed.
The mermaids have bright tails that sparkle.
The mermaids blow kisses in heart shaped bubbles.
Ice cream after in the food court.
A chocolate cone. Her favorite treat.
We talk of being between two worlds.
Water and land. Love and fear. Heaven and earth.
She says her wings are growing back.
We avoid lotuses. Some much day left.
We must be awake while the sun sleeps.
We must be awake, in the fires to come.
She is holding on as we ride through scarred trees.
The hissing whisper has become a robin’s song.