Mermaids
One
We keep our
legs under
blankets the
bones gleaming
in jelly like
concrete left in
a wheelbarrow
in the rain
the next day
leaves hang
under the surface
like beetles
under glass
Two
We dress in
fiberglass our
spun sugar
tongues our
foreheads messy
with welts we
film in secret
from knots in
plywood the
tops of milk
cartons the screen
door lets the
cool air seep
in we passenger
pigeon the night
Three
We drip dry
in the waiting
room our hair
shiny with fossils
moats circle the
automatic doors
our lockets leak
static the aisles
full of ashes
the tollbooths
come in waves
Four
We secretary
the morning
the intersections
full of bells
we slide right
through like
swords through
stomachs empty
yawn of space
the snakes
swallow everything
LORI PROPHETER lives and works in DeKalb, Illinois. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poor Claudia, Storm Cellar, Sugared Water, and elsewhere. She is a poetry reader for GASHER Journal.