Mermaid Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Feral mermaids, you are real-
Because I saw you leaping and doing tricks
For dozens of tourists,
And your tail was teal,
And you know your ways through hollowed
Coquina,
And you know that ancient blood rood corridors
Of the silver encrusted
Spaniards-
Mermaids, you are migratory, are you
Gypsies,
And how does your roe taste, mermaids sleeping
In the alabaster sea,
Sleeping not so deep down under the whirring
Ceiling fans of helicopters,
With the element of light forever waving down
In cryptic tanning-
Areolas warped by the strumming currents,
Who know the soft meats of water terrapin,
Who breed alone and have never known the corruption
Of centaurs or the classroom-
Won’t you inherit our species once the earth tears,
Once we go down being Indian given by rainbows
Past crepuscule, and feeding time,
Won’t you come up and undo your gills and swim
In my moats with my plastic tugs and junks:
Mermaids, I have watercolors for you and names
I haven’t yet come up with,
And meatball submarines outside your salty euphemisms:
Mermaids clap and squeak farts for me
And we will celebrate Christmas together while the
Mexicans are sleeping in the back corner of the house
Coated in a sheath of pungently mowed grass:
Mermaids,
Who are you, and what do you think of that penumbra
Which seems forever set in the stone of perfect reflections,
And does not ripple in the bay of your unreal satellites.