the Selkie

A fantasy poem.

Striking down the pebbled beach Feet waddling, wading to the edged shore The salt-lipped waves lick her feet. Hmm,” she says, dipping and stripping Slipping off her smooth velvet skin Ripping and peeking as she leaks Flippers, and a tail, and wet whiskers. She lays on her belly and rubs her nose Forward-sinking and upside-swimming Way out where weeds clump and climb Sea trees and soaked sponge rocks. “I’m swimming,” she says “I’m sliding,” she says Loosely lying belly-up. She pats her silk belly Swollen with warm blubber Blowing bubbles through her Silver whiskers. Water pops Over her slime-shod pear-shaped Figure and she revels. Proportions she assigns seem Simply sumptuous at the time Of setting, sun dipping down Past night she plays, Plashing and splaying “Look at me!” Until the last-lipped ray Shutters quiet the night. She drags her flippers to The bank, breaching tension, Rising dripping above the sea. She is diving into her Second skin with fingers That grasp and flesh Which seeks the sun On solid pillars. She suits up her human skin. Looks back. That’s her. She crunches up the pebbled beach Mourning the loss of her Mirror-lifting sea Heavy with moonshine.

Poem, The Selkie, 2022.