The Last Mermaid
The tides have grown heavy with secrets and oil,
And the coral is ghost-white and brittle as bone.
Where once there were thousands in glittering coil,
Now the deep-reaching current is silent and lone.
The last living spark of a sapphire sun,
A relic, a myth, a forgotten medallion,
In a world where the legends are all but undone.
Her scales are not jewels, but dull, tarnished pewter,
Scoured by sand and the sting of the grey.
The songs of her sisters grow softer and muter,
Dissolving like foam in the wake of the day.
She remembers the bioluminescent dances,
The pressure of hands in the dark, cooling vents,
But now, only shadows and cold, empty trances
Remain of the kingdom’s magnificent tents.
She rises to surface where moonlight is fractured,
By nets made of nylon and islands of glass.
The air is a flavor her lungs never captured,
As she watches the iron-hulled leviathans pass.
No sailor is singing, no lookout is dreaming,
They stare at their screens while the radar pings slow,
Missing the flash of the tail that is gleaming
A final, faint pulse in the dark down below.
She dives one last time to the floor of the trench,
Where the weight of the water is steady and kind,
Away from the heat and the iron-wrought stench,
Leaving the sun and the wreckage behind.
A sigh of silver, a bubble, a quiver—
The ocean accepts what the land couldn't keep.
The last of the magic, a cold, quiet shiver,
As the heart of the sea falls forever to sleep.
And she cries.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
