Merman

After Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill

His scales  - 

fair yet fragile, like sequins  - 

glistened as he swam 

in waters of sapphire and tourmaline. 

How he'd dance with dolphins 

and giggle, emulating their play, 

he'd place his heart on their fin.

Who knew his scales could grow? 

For they did indeed thicken; 

calcified, 

until his shimmer slowly became his shell. 

Tucked in tight in his darker seabed 

as shoals of fish-folk passed idly by, 

soft gills closed over, like forgotten old wounds; 

healed against will, suffocating in tide and time. 

No longer was the sea the merman's stage, 

no more would each wave be his next thrill. 

Now, fins of flint had failed to find 

the current to bring him to warm oceanic climes. 

Soon, his cry to Poseidon was heard, 

as cracks appeared upon his stone-scaled tail, 

turned to sand, and fell from his body evolved; 

new legs to take him towards the sun and the air.