Fish Out Of Water Poem by Jan Tchamani

I told my husband don't put any soap in
No bubbles except those of my creation thank you
He said any normal woman, all the women I know
Use soap or bubble bath: it softens the skin
I let him have his way
Then sent him away with a kiss to mow the lawn
And, feeling a little guilty, pulled the plug...
I felt as though I was wasting his love

But, you see, it wouldn't do to bathe in bubbles
They would dessicate my scales, bring me out in hives
And make my glorious tail less flexible

Slipping to the kitchen I crept like a burglar
Stole the salt, added a generous handful to the new,
clear bathing water I locked the door - he wouldn't like to see...

And now I lie here submerged,
Blowing my bubbles, letting my fins flow free

His mother warned him, but he would not hear
He said we have this cool thing, this in-joke
We say I married a siren, a Cornish watermaid,
A Ginny Greenteeth My crazy wife thinks she is a mermaid!
But I know she’s just a woman on medication:
A fish out of water.