The Mermaid Dream

The sight of the bodies slowly descending into the darkness, the depths

to the piles of those left to swim for their lives, for the lives of their children

they sunk, prisoners of war become anchors, a glistening sepulcher beneath the waves 

not amber, stilled trapped within, 

murky and thick with crude oil, more bodies sink and twist and bend as the waves yell at the moon,

“Iamb, iamb, iamb,”

and they reply with silence, or I couldn’t hear between the claps of thunder and my ears were drowned in the cries of a morbid homecoming. 

Rusted gadgets and fragile gizmos I mistake for crumbling bone.

I nearly forgot the ocean was a tomb, a  mass grave borne of strife and preserved in sodium chloride, an element possessed by Lot’s wife 

in the eyes of angry God

-forsaken casualties casually captured by the tide

like the drowning Ursus maritimus, frigid ivory tress to line the floor of the welcoming sea

Lethe was home and I became the wretched of the sea with the rest of the ungrounded rejects 

part of a brave new world your world deemed the global dumpster of souls and extracted war blood.

The mermaid fantasy died in my dreams last night.