Siren Song Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I come in from the garden
attempting to curb weeds

see you through
the open window

nude

bathwater still clinging
to your skin

combing the flames
of your long wet hair

as if you were
a siren

in a famous painting

that just happened
to be hanging there

in mid-air

singing to yourself.

You always had this habit
of becoming art

where ever you were
whatever you did.

My own private gallery
that no millionaire could afford.

I approached your singing
enchanted

my heart tied to the mast.

You looked up
and smiled

'Hello, love! '

My heart leapt
overboard

and swam to you

drowning with love.