Friday, July 6, 2007

A hole where it is heart (should be)

On a visit to Texas a year ago
the cab driver worried for me living on this rock,
as if it might sink under the weight
of toothpick umbrellas and passionfruit,
and I would drown. Or maybe I'll get lucky
and float on a raft of orchids, their pretty mouths
a silent siren chorus. Can you picture my delicate
seaweed lingerie, my endless feast of oysters
to make a coin purse of black pearls?
Certainly the soundtrack will be familiar,
an endless shhhh, a gentle admonishment to wait.
At some point I'll look back -- have to --
and see tentacles of lava rising
to build a new castle for a mermaid to covet.
Then I'll remember I'm not a mermaid
and step into the water.

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