Rings The Mermaids Wear

 

What we lose by day we take back by night,
and more,

for tidal contradictions of two differing
minds

subside when rocked by heat the body lends

to thwarts, stems, and sterns where we are
moored;

 

the bowline holds though words that friends
admire

come cold with piety to offend,

and the subtle instinct to be open or confined

refuses to distinguish fact from rings the
mermaids wear.

 

This dailiness of breach and tear,

the salty lather that peels paint,

persists with both abandon and constraint

until the two, convinced, admit they’re tired.

 

Is some such scene mysteriously necessary
to our core

as long as everything we lose by day returns by night — and
more?

 

 

just a word-