Sirens

Tears taste like salt but this ocean tastes like green apple vodka and smoky boy tongues-foreign, forbidden, accepted eagerly as a baby bird bald in the nest. (A poem.)

Sirens

 

High tide.

Standing- slipping.

Red cup and shoulder gripping.

A kaleidoscope of

colors, tastes, blurs, laughter,

nausea.

I am a jellyfish

with numb limbs that

act on the whim

of the wave.

Rip-ripping seahorses

like tissues, kiss-

kissing tiny toes with

foamed lips.

Tears taste like salt but

this ocean tastes like

green apple vodka and smoky

boy tongues- foreign, forbidden,

accepted eagerly as a baby

bird bald in the nest.

My sight has fish eyed and

down here in the dark, the

bitter-exciting cold, these girls look

like mermaids. Kill you with a kiss.

I melt into tailfins and eat up sailors.

They fall in like teeth, tossing their life vests

to save me.

Author's Note

Criticism and feedback very much appreciated!