Tuesday, March 9, 2021

Women's History Month: Tuesday, March 9, 2021: Heidi Blakeslee's poem "The Last Mermaid"


The Last Mermaid                               

the end of the day brings the chaos

of dream

the sea turtles meandering around


the corals sporting hues no creature

will ever see

for the dark

of the deepness


the water is my air

and the air is my water

I can’t stay out too long

past my breathing time

my gills full of ticking clocks

and my hair full of shells I’ve picked

from the shallow end of my world


I am the last mermaid

the last half-human swimmer in this sea

the last space filling apostrophes

the speckled goose

among the colorblind bill ducks and albatross

we are swimming

in schools of lonely serpents

down there in the beneath

octopi spurting ink too dark to see

upon startle

they startle me

from my slumber

in the flowerbeds of seaweed


I will now make a harp from my hair

and I will talk

to the Sirens who reign the rocky rough

their thick braids

dipping into my air


their songs calling some man

but lovely nonetheless somewhere

rich harmonies permeate my water and me

the last half-human swimmer in this sea

of storms and swirling tide pools


the darkness whose slick depth comforts me


 © 2021 Heidi Blakeslee

Heidi Blakeslee is the author of a memoir, The White Cat, two novels, Strange Man, and The House, and three poetry books, the latest being Neurotica which came out in 2019 through Alien Buddha Press.  She is currently the poetry book reviewer for GAS: Poetry, Art, and Music blog.  She lives near Pittsburgh with her six cats and her partner James.

No comments:

Post a Comment