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Ekphrasis

 
 
Sad inverted siren thing,  
beached  
and lying helpless on  
deserted sand,  
wave lorn,  
and gulping bootless air,  
the scalloped triangle there  
above your legs  
now smelling  
monthly womanish,  
what man would swim to you?  
You cannot be  
one of the three  
the harried wanderer  
Odysseus  
once lashed himself to hear.  
He would not ever wish  
to set his gaze on you  
And you,  
half fish  
with gaping mouth of bone,  
have no lips to shape around  
a song.  
 
Written by Baldwin
Published
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