I swam out into the sea
over the moving waves and cloudy light
my body, my bones, my hair floating
overcome by the monolithic body of salt and
the flickering wisps of colors and dreams
the blinking fluorescent light of the bar sign
sinking to the bottom, tangled in algae and
anemones
your irises, encased in their white museum
frames, with dark sharp attachments to keep
swimmers at bay
through their waters, forced back by the
jelly slickness like gossamer glasswork of the
human eye
I see myself moving, through the oceans
crashing up against your vision
the greens and greys slowly calling me away
in siren's tongue, towards the skyline
where mermaids metamorphose and get pulled
under the waves.