Middle-Aged Mermaids

by Pam Newham

You see them as they float through the mall.
They toss their rippling hair,
as shiny as wave-swept kelp.
Their breasts bob while their
smooth, sanded faces remain unmoved.
Their siren-eyes keep searching.

At the sushi bar they perch
on high stools and flick the tips
of their shark-skin shoes.
Their coral-pink lips call
“Come back. Come back.”
But it is not
susceptible sailors
they wish to lure
as their yearning eyes
watch the ship called
sail away.


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