I shouldn’t have asked. Why would a sea witch—who, if rumor is to be believed, has either no heart or a fistful of dead coral in its place—miss a mermaid?
she deserves to know.
I want her to know.
so I roll my sleeves up.
I show her why
I’ve stayed away.
The bruises on her forearms are blue and purple as a storm. The second I see them, my rage is hot as lightning.
I tell her
that I didn’t know
how to tell her.
I don’t ask how it happened. I know.
I thought if I didn’t
come back on land for a while
he’d leave me alone.
Boys want us because we’re something different.Come on, don’t you want to show me your shell?
but whenever I stay
at the lavender house
that boy’s always there,
parked in front,
the light of his cigarette
showing his face.
he says he just wants to talk.
he always just wants to talk.
My mother comes out of the kitchen, asking la Sirenita if she’s hungry.
when I try to go anywhere, he appears
fast as a lighthouse beam,
asking, don’t I want to go
wherever I’m going
with him,
laughing