An Odd Splishy Day
Filtered amber light poured through the bay window,
Odd in its warm color for a cloudy, gray winter’s day.
I thought: It must be the diffusing, slatted ivory blinds,
Changing hues, the narrowed lines filtering views.
Fingers flew across the keyboard,
Odd in their speed for an arthritic day.
Rounded bony points jutting at the knuckles,
Odd that they looked like the points on a mermaid’s tail today.
Thoughts cast out farther than a pocket fisherman ever could hope,
Odd because why would ron popeil flash into my ocean this day?
Fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters,
Odd in their similes, running a mile a minute,
Overtly, not much to say,
Covertly, mountains of meaning.
Turning turtle-like to my left, neck creaking a duet
With the three-wheeled chair,
Odd in their unusually melodic symphony and how close
Creaking is to creating,
I saw the mermaid’s shadow on the wall,
Odd that it is deep violet against that jeweled amber cast from the window.
Shadowed figure of myths and legends,
Odd that through a skeptical, cynical tone and view,
I believe in her.
I want to see her sleek dazzling form, emerge in a quiet splish – not splash,
At my feet, with bait-dangled toes flipping the warm bubbled surface
In skims and skips.
Not so odd because we were child mermaids, you and I,
Long forgotten in fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters.
Slowing now, remembering a cool, aqua blue vinyl liner
That transformed children’s wishes into fluid reality.
Water cascades from brow to eyes, not really noticing, not really caring
About much except that feeling of being her.
How muffled the world above becomes in her depths.
Turning to see velvet green eyes, she casts away doubt and for a time,
Just a little time, the muse and the mermaid merge.
Odd in their fusion; trailing bubbles, quilled pens,
Iridescent sparks like abalone explosions,
And gone are the fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters.
©2002 tink lecuyer
Filtered amber light poured through the bay window,
Odd in its warm color for a cloudy, gray winter’s day.
I thought: It must be the diffusing, slatted ivory blinds,
Changing hues, the narrowed lines filtering views.
Fingers flew across the keyboard,
Odd in their speed for an arthritic day.
Rounded bony points jutting at the knuckles,
Odd that they looked like the points on a mermaid’s tail today.
Thoughts cast out farther than a pocket fisherman ever could hope,
Odd because why would ron popeil flash into my ocean this day?
Fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters,
Odd in their similes, running a mile a minute,
Overtly, not much to say,
Covertly, mountains of meaning.
Turning turtle-like to my left, neck creaking a duet
With the three-wheeled chair,
Odd in their unusually melodic symphony and how close
Creaking is to creating,
I saw the mermaid’s shadow on the wall,
Odd that it is deep violet against that jeweled amber cast from the window.
Shadowed figure of myths and legends,
Odd that through a skeptical, cynical tone and view,
I believe in her.
I want to see her sleek dazzling form, emerge in a quiet splish – not splash,
At my feet, with bait-dangled toes flipping the warm bubbled surface
In skims and skips.
Not so odd because we were child mermaids, you and I,
Long forgotten in fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters.
Slowing now, remembering a cool, aqua blue vinyl liner
That transformed children’s wishes into fluid reality.
Water cascades from brow to eyes, not really noticing, not really caring
About much except that feeling of being her.
How muffled the world above becomes in her depths.
Turning to see velvet green eyes, she casts away doubt and for a time,
Just a little time, the muse and the mermaid merge.
Odd in their fusion; trailing bubbles, quilled pens,
Iridescent sparks like abalone explosions,
And gone are the fast fingers, fast talkers, fast world, fast waters.
©2002 tink lecuyer
Splishy was originally posted on June 21, 2005 - the day this blog was begun.
I'm reposting it today because one of those little internal nudges wanted it so. :o) This was written in early 2002 and published October 2003 in Aoife's Kiss Magazine.
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