Mermaid & Real
by Fiona Lam
[ poetry - february 09 ]
Mermaid
My father and sisters weeping from shore,
my grandmother mourning in our coral home,
my splendid tail, my lyric tongue - all severed,
the price for these cursed legs.
How my smile hid the stab of each step
while I danced for you and your friends.
You never looked at the bloody stub
where the witch sundered my tongue.
You've forgotten how we rode together,
climbed mountains, watched clouds
stream beneath us like white flecked water.
The way I burned outside your door.
When I saw her pearls pooled on your dresser,
her stiletto heels beside your bed, I knew
defeat, more exquisitely precise
than the thousand blades through my feet.
Your bride is ravishing, meant for you
as I was meant for no one.
My blue shadow, a scar
against the sinking red sun.
Real
It's a disorder of sorts,
not just about mattresses.
Sometimes it's the sheets or pillows.
More often, the man.
Many a sleepless night,
I've gritted my teeth
while he scrapes his bristle
along my breasts and thighs.
Don't bother counting my scars
from hangnailed caresses,
the bite marks, the bruises,
tears and abrasions.
Crowned by their mothers,
these "princes" are nothing but brutes.
I flinch when they touch me.
Hidden peas were just my excuse.
I'm so tired of tests.
Perhaps I was made
for no man's embrace. Yet
still I keep seeking through storms
to find shelter in the one
whose eyes, lips and hands
can treasure what's real,
not plunder it.
