Thursday, May 28, 2015


    If she sees me, she will, a Siren,
    Draw me, “take me home,”
    She’ll wail and moan.
    I shouldn’t listen. 
    I’ve traveled so far,
    My boat is cracked along its seams.
    I’m stretched out on the sand

    Wracked by a hacking cough,
    Staring off toward her island.
    At night I hear
    Her call my name, “Why do
    You leave me here.  Do I
    Mean so little after all this time”?
    I roll over and look

    At the occluded dense sky.
    Her calls fall
    From the clouds,
    As brimstone and fire.
    “I’ll come when I can,”
    I promise but
    She cannot hear.

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