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.