The Ocean

A mermaid circled by a ring of jellyfish,
light dotting the water, a prism shattered
on the waves. I can nearly reach her.

Ovals of smudged soot for eyes—
around her neck, my heart on a string,
a leather pocket in suspended breath.

I inhale water, exhale black ink.

Opening her mouth, a whirlpool revealed,
a vacuumed riptide—
water pulls away in all directions.

I reach out to her, but cannot see.

Waking in the middle of the desert, slate rock
beneath my knees as I look up, blinded by sun,
seaweed draped across my shoulders.

There may be nothing for miles and miles,
but I have come from the bottom of the ocean,
and I am here to tell you about it.