“siren song.”

BY REGAN PUCKETT

the women of the water are angels,
with scaled skin instead of feathered wings.
in their hair, they wear crowns of shells and starfish,
and from their mouths drip joyous melodies.

the angels of the sea admire the men of the land.
they want the men more than they want themselves,
and so they sever their tails in two, give up their voices,
to become the wives of the land.

they do not mind the pain nor the silence,
that comes with their transformation.
now that it means they can live with a prince,
is there anything more to want?

this tale has been spun for thousands of years –
that the angels of the sea long to be less whole.
that they carve themselves into perfect halves
to fit into the arms of the men of the land.

but if you see an angel of the sea,
look closer before you offer your aid.
under the silver moonlight,
her grin looks jagged and bloodied.

the angels of the sea are not angels at all.
do not mistake their beauty for meekness –
their crowns are made of shark teeth and bone,
and their eyes know depths that cannot be seen.

the women of the sea are not half, they are whole.
they will not sit on the shore and sing a melody;
they will not give up their voices to become
what they were not born to be.

and so, they will sing their song of discord.
when their siren song consumes your mind,
down to the depths below you will go.
as you sink into the darkness, remember –
           you may journey across her waters,
but you are part of her world.