The sails flap listless in a damp dead wind.
Sheets limp on the bow, she glances toward a
blank horizon, lost in the distance.
Below deck, frustration and words fill the void.
But here, silence on deck, the flat grey liquid..
No thought of rescue, as if she could walk on water.
Anger won’t cure this, winds won’t blow this along.
The distance is deeper and colder than any bay water.
Bridges can’t be built in a day, not by any mermaid.
Out there, the dolphins try to follow a dream
but quit in wise appreciation of Atlantis.
They are too sleek for this particular world.
Slow drifting towards an unknown shore, where
love and life settle in a brackish berth.
No safe anchor as she realizes she is stranded.
(Republished for the Poetry Review contest)