Orion and the Siren

Thursday, December 2, 2021

 Under covers of royal blue water
the siren listened and hunted.
As dusk fell, sailors knew best
to venture along other paths 
when not even the
moon would touch the ocean.
That night the siren drew away from slumber.
She looked upon the midnight horizon
and was drawn in by Orion.
He too was taken aback 
as he studied the waves of her tresses.
He called upon fireflies,
and flames grew in the pits of her stomach.
“You’re not like men here.
They bellow and howl and expect daylight.”
Orion paused.
“That’s because I rest my feet on the moon
and fish among midnight.”
The siren stiffened.
“Is that why you gravitate toward me?
Because I dwell amid the current?”
A chortle.
“No my dear,
It is because your crown of pearls
is dulled by your piercing eyes.
Inside you lives a spirit of light,
the element that connects us.”
She reached toward him, begging 
to pass through worn words and drowsy suns. 
Interwoven, they floated through starlight.
Leo leaned in, raising three cheers.
They dulled the jagged rocks
that her sisters kept.
Together, the phenomenon of their hearts meeting,
caused moonlight to cut through the ocean.
A veil lifted from the dead of night.

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