Mermaid Song

for Aya at fifteen

Damp-haired from the bath, you drape yourself
upside down across the sofa, reading,
one hand idly sunk into a bowl
of crackers, goldfish with smiles stamped on.
I think they are growing gills, swimming
up the sweet air to reach you. Small girl,
my slim miracle, they multiply.
In the black hours when I lie sleepless,
near drowning, dread-heavy, your face
is the bright lure I look for, love's hook
piercing me, hauling me cleanly up.

by Kim Addonizio

Comments (2)

This lady wraps her reader around her finger and shares the beauty and the hardships of a mother's love
and this one, too-a gorgeous love and look of recognition-self and other-revitalizing the on-looker with the redemption that comes from recognition-gorgeous! yes! thank you!