Fluidache

I


My mother said,
She bought me
From a fisherwoman.


She let me go
For a bag of ice
For those lifeless gaze
Openmouthed
Staring out of silver scales.


II


Her skin smelled salt
At late midnights
When gulls made love
And serpents crawled
Over mermaid lust.


His shadow paused
For an after smoke
To let in deep sea fogs
Of oceanic lunacy


The sea seemed heavy
Over her naked body
Draining her veins
Of its fluidic essence.


Crossing decades
For a chosen grave
She shed her skin
For silver scales


To be born again
Through his piercing nails.


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