The Wind Blows the Water

21 Mar

siren

Silted earthen body
hatched of Hyperion
extends one blush
sole upon a cool mound,
pushed to its density
in a sandy stride.
Five sinistral toes
clasp its surety
like a newborn’s fingers,
curled.

And into a westward tide,
one white right
tentacle uncurls
into the tourmaline swell
of dream.
A semi footed
Siren
sings
a bi-aural note.
Mortal. . .
Immortal. . .
Closer…closer.

This Being,
left foot planted in Gaia’s grasp,
right foot floating in Pontus’ placid palm,
she walks two worlds,
the veil
a starry measure
to hang
an artless
summons
upon.

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