The Last Mermaid

This is a series dealing with women I see from the corner of my eye while driving, walking and such.

Last Mermaid

She clung to wall between the weeping ivy
As the cars rushed by, raced by
Threatening to carry her away in their sixty mph
Regulated trails of travel

Skeletal, she hunched forward in her pink gypsy blouse
With blue eyes lost in the horizon
With her lips forming a grim expression
Mimicking the collapsing landscape
Hair peeked out from under her cap
Blonde teasing at the gray

Lost and confused, she lingers
On the wall between the city and the sea
Her body the warring party
With every shallow breath rattling her chest

She had been the last mermaid
Swam all day and all night in those waterways
Before the factories, the highways, the city.
Spent her time collecting sea shells and teasing fish

She caught sight of a boat one afternoon
Then was whisked away in a net
Tested for threat to the national security
In the end, had her renounce her fins
Gave her a cross and a pair of legs, then told her to be on her way

Locked behind the growing wall of skyscrapers and apartment complexes,
She forgot what the sea looked like, but collected postcards, try to remember
Her background and life with paintings of seascapes
She married a fisherman in hopes he would take her home

He turned out to be a farmer, and moved them inland
Surrounding them with miles of wheat fields and windmills
She delivered him three sons
None had the sea in their eyes, and she knew it was lost
He gave her a goldfish and patted her head

She whispered I was the last mermaid
I swam all day and all night
Collecting sea shells and teasing fish

They shook their heads at her
She cried out the sea from her body, until bones were left
Her tongue rattled and rusted to the roof of mouth
Blonde hair turned gray, and blue eyes wasted away

Lost and confused, she sat on the porch
Facing the horizon searching for the sea
Listening for the gulls
They brought in doctors, and provided medication
Told her to swear away her thoughts and dreams
Gave her a blank stare and structure less thoughts

Two months passed with endless rocking
Her children told her about their lives
Her husband routinely fed her and took up with the barmaid next door
After a lifetime and two months, she got up
Left with no word on the eve of her birthday
Disappearing into the wheat fields
Marched silently toward the city

She whispered I am the last mermaid
I swam all day and all night
Collecting sea shells and teasing fish

Wandered along the buildings
The maze of side streets
Marching, marching
Until she found this spot

Where the city met the sea
Sagging, she rested among the weeping ivy
Melding into the concrete, legs weaving into the green
The pink blouse blooming, and she sat there a rose breaking out of stone
Slowly smiled as the last rays of the sun caressed her sunken cheeks
Closing her eyes, and feeling her soul leave with the sun

She whispers I was the last mermaid
I swam all day and all night
Collecting sea shells and teasing fish
Now I am finally home