Bedrieger Junction

Song to the Sirens

Lovely against your coral thrones
The crash of waves, the crush of bones,
Seaweed tangle of briny hair,
Dead men's fingers your brush and comb.

Take my ribcage, scoured white,
To be your harp, with heart-meat strings;
A scale for plectrum, make me sing
Your cold salt breasts, their milk of night.

-- Roynald O'MacRossinski

Image info: No Sound from the Rain, copyright 2021 by Carl Bettis, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.