MORNING WITH A MERMAID
To Loretta
Her mythology sings
to a lifeless world
the symphony of the sea
from rock aisled balconies.
Leaving a trace of fog
through candles of narcissus,
her hands work late
flowering
over a concrete environment.
where birds slide
along the shadowy arms
of telephone wires;
where twilight
filters through her hand
like sand that rises
under white hooded waves.
her invisibility
trembles with curiosity
over unshed tears
A halo of salt reflects
veils of mist
in her watery hair,
as she rises
with a clear voice
from the chalice of the Pacific,
unlocking the ears of a silent planet.