poetry dump, take one

a fun fact about bruises;
the throb lasts about as long
as the memory that accompanied the blow;
and as far as battle-scars go,
registering bluepurpleblack
with vague surprise
Feels like a posthumous victory
Sounds like a retroactive yield
& Looks like my own smile reflected back
in a blade, diamond-sharp;
a will that cuts.

She slips into her abode
(mantled in sea foam
water lapping her hands
salt inching up her hair)
And her legion of guardians,
her friends of the water,
greet her with rigid salutes.
Their faces stony in loving obedience –
and Oh, What A Scene!
Mermaid, her heroes,
a dance to hail the sea!
But a bliss broken
By a knock, an intruder;

Scatter! says Mermaid
to her erstwhile heroes,
their bravado chastened –
The Harbinger is come!
Ships, one and all, sink into
maritime security;
a final salute to the Officer-at-Arms.
The Portent, she smiles,
and reaches into blue,
in a swirl, in a tempest.

The aftermath is sudsy,
stony faces of little green men,
and the smile of the Mermaid
“Is it time for lunch yet?”

I rose with the birds

And let myself fly through wind

To kiss morning light
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