as he grabs
my arms.
My mother stops when she sees the bruises.
laughing as I
twist away.
My mother asks, as casually as if we’d like tea, if la Sirenita would like us to kill him.
“don’t you want
to be my little mermaid?”
he asks every time
I’m running away.
he doesn’t hear me
yelling back no.
La Sirenita says, “No.”
Then, “Not yet.”
Then, “I don’t know.”
every time
he doesn’t hear my no,
a little more of my voice
dies in my throat.
My mother sets jars of salt water at every threshold while la Sirenita hands me what she’s brought with her.
I need him to know
I belong to myself,
not him.
A strand of dark pearls from her mother.
I belong
to my silver-tailed mother,
but not to this boy.
I belong to my father,
who gave up the earth
beneath his feet