her name is

This is a pretty short poem featuring my interpretation of sirens from Greek mythology. Sirens were said to lure men to watery graves with songs, but originally were companions of Persephone.

siren. she is everywhere:

rocky

shores, dirty street corners,

singing, singing, always

singing. she is the most

beautiful

thing you’ve ever seen, gills

erupting from her neck like

ferns. because she is beautiful,

you think she is meant to be

yours,

with her hair the color of

the wind. this pretty girl, will

never

sing for you, never wanted

to. and though you don’t speak

her

language, you figure the only

person she would sing for is

you. and so you follow her like

something

you’ve lost, jumping overboard into

deep waters, chasing her down the

street. all along she was singing for her

stolen

friend, a girl named for springtime,

who was taken by a man not so

different from you.

Author's Note

Any general constructive criticism would be lovely. Also: what do you think of the formatting, does the all lowercase work, and what about the spacing? Thanks to anyone who reviews.

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

I have some deconstructive criticism if you have the balls... Do you have the testicular fortitude to handle my hot steamy criticisms all over your comment section?