DUYONG 4

There is a man whose gods tell him to take the ocean as his consort. Carried in the womb of his lacquered palanquin, he arrives at his summer palace, laden with moonstone and pearl. His silk-spun robes of brocade lotus blossom drop upon the sand. He enters her.

 

And he waits. For many hours he waits.

 

I know this because I see his tender waterbird legs, his soft, hairy feet, pale and prune. The fool, how he treads, naked and flaccid, not knowing I am all around him, not knowing how close I come, and how I bare my claws. Oh, but how I resist swiping.

 

Instead, I sleep. I descend to my garden, and I sleep.

 

Into the dawn the man waits, and only his gods know what he expects to occur. Alone and shivering, he crawls ashore; he swears his attendants to secrecy.