When Ghosts Become Mermaids

And sometimes I have really absurd dreams, which in turn become poems. Forgive me.

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In this king of nightmares, I married

an old sweetheart who knew

the science of laughter

but not the magic act of lust,

a stocking gone one minute, the skirt

vanishing the next, how to make

all those blushes turn into good old blood

broiling in the heat of touch

And so I, just as clumsy,  

on this day of holy matrimony,

wore a turtleneck beneath a fabbed up

white jumper

an exercise in the poor Victorian gothic

and every time I passed him in the prep

before the ceremony,

anxiety tore across his face

just as my hands released an ocean

all on their own

all of this was swept under by dos “I dos”

His mood changed from fretting to elation,

and he led me by the hand to a pond behind the church

here was our consummation bed,

he said, “do not be afraid”

pulling me down beneath the algaic green surface

Great, a marriage unwanted seems to have been giving

it’s rightful omens

murder is never so poignant as it is at the first

of new beginnings

but soon, I found he was shoving pills into my mouth

upon submersion,

and I swallowed,

and breathed

“here, we must have our children.

I did not tell you lest you ran”

He implored, with a flick of his tail

and so I finally had the upskirt magician

I always wanted,

but inseminated, now I could not

leave, or the air would kill the unborn

and so this nightmare had me chained

to my worst fear

trapped, sedated by the light hitting the gentle

windblown current,

and full of babies

I cannot even fathom as a part of the pronoun

I

I am the mermaid’s slave

And modern medicine

is the surest way to tie the knot

on aquatic abduction