The Mermaid's Revenge

by Roberta

She was fresh from the sea

and made of salt.

I lick her with the tip of my tongue.

Carry her upon it. She is

flipper without face. They say

she is the murder of men

in those graceful tail-flips.

I taste the word 'murder.'

Her murder is made of nectar

and the knives of her fin.

We were never

meant to touch her.
Lapping salt beads from

my crackling, ecstatic lips.