The Mermaid Bride

The sailor netted her

one wind-swept

storm-tossed dusk,

 

imprisoned her

in a glass tank

brimful of brine.

 

Her eerie wailing

his night-time lullabies,

so he lashed hisself

 

with oakum

to both bedposts,

lest he be roused.

 

The cottage door

throbbed, then bulged

at the otherworldly knocking.

                                                   

The wraith stood,

sodden, stinking of the sea.

Slurring, it spoke,

 

‘My wife?

You have her, father.

Return her to me.’

 

His ring finger

wore a loop

of iridescent scales.

 

His father nodded,

grim-faced, and

grief-stricken

 

‘I wished to see ye,

son of mine,

one more time.’

 

He gently touched

the sea-soaked flesh

of his dead lad’s face.

           

Sea water dribbled

from the blue, blue lips –

‘Bring me my bride,’ he said.

 

His father faced

the creature in the tank

with a sorrow-struck soul.

 

Her tail lashed

the brine to bubbled

frenzy, whilst fury poured

 

from her and from out

of the fronds of her seaweed hair

jewel-like crustaceans crawled.

                                

Wrapped in nets

he bore her to his son,

shifting, restless at the shore.

 

The revenant turned

his drowned eyes

toward his mermaid bride,

 

filled with lust,

dread and death.

She kissed his chill cheek.

 

The sea took them back

into its icy, grey embrace,

crowning them with froth.