Drowned Thing

The siren’s call
echoes across the waves and
out from a whirling dreamscape
she pulls the man, down
into the lonely blue
and the delicious black
her fingers press
against the marks
of his intention
a drowned thing
he takes a breath and
rushes toward the surface
the siren wails, stay
but cured of his infliction
the man escapes, away
back –
back into the dreamscape.

Jesse Falk