Unnamed Poem

How does the merman look

as it pulls itself up on this gravel beach

between two storms

pale, for underwater, or dark for the sun

heavy shouldered, big handed

four fingered, wide chested

good working lungs but what about gills?

do ribs show pressing against the skin

for lack of food, for lack of rest

hounded from the hiding holes

the coral caves which die and break

the secret hobbitries beneath the waves

the sunken ships too broken for the fork legged

as most young males

it has been encouraged to leave the last

of the good old known safeties

far out to sea

make its own way in the world

to find new shelter or take it from another

secure a mate

is it one of the last of a dying race

overfished overplotted overvisited

overexploited

lonely has it come for vengeance

or to plea

lingering at peril

for both you and he

for while you were once them and they once you

and have stories of each other

the space to commune is slim

no wider, perhaps

then the steps between this merman who of course sings –

of depths and sex

and you wandered on top the cliff

in the dark

distance

breached only by tricks great faith and dreams.