Treasure Island

Robert Rorabeck

(04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

A Siren Who Has Forgotten All of Her Songs


Tonight my muse lies in sleep with him
Like a mermaid who has come ashore smelling the rose
That will become her grave:
There is her bed between the dunes, and her eyes
Have already bled all of their tears:
And now what is she doing, held over like a prostitute
Underneath the biggest neon cross underneath the
Biggest all night supermarket
While the convenient stores are getting robbed:
There she is with her nightgown slipped over her
Brown shoulders in the middle of the orange groves
So far away from where she belongs.
But she was so far away anyways- but I linger there
Still listening at the bus stops, the lions lamenting
A siren who has forgotten all of her favorite songs.

Submitted: Sunday, June 26, 2011
Edited: Monday, June 27, 2011

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