Teen Mermaid

Prettiest mermaid in the sea,
and no one notices me.
Mom and Dad eat and watch TV,
and each time I surface,
the figure on the shore
is turned away.

I practice my dives
and using my tail different ways,
singing. Whole days
are shaped by little more
than this: bubbles,
undulations of color and muscle,
caress of wet speed.

But something in the sharpness
of wind knows my name.
Floating body of sun.
Jostling of waves.

The figure on the rocks
and docks, the figure’s legs.
I stay mostly behind my veil
but can’t not stare.

He’s just my size.
He cups his eyes.

Where am I to him but anywhere?
What am I but a
shadow in the glare?

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