Water Spited Satyr

 The water sprites marched through the mesh
Of the marshes end, spraying the sea foam
Out to visitors begotten; the satyr dared to
Spy upon their dance and pouring into Waves
Drowned He went, below the seaweed and the reeds,
But the cateye he clung to, hanging for life,
For play, for sex, for wanton favor, he knew
The water sprites would whisk him again
Into doom if he dared to surface, but air
Was growing low and vision was blurring dull,
Dark, dark the abyss of death was fishing all
To close beneath the tidal frown of the drown
In which he had gone. He pressed his lips to
The mesh turned mud and gulped in the
Oxygen bubbles from the sand turned glass.
And there still he lives within the marsh,
A devil with Two horns, below the
play and parade of the Water Sprites.