Mock Ulysses and the SirenbyTzara©
She glides, naked and piscine,
through a green sea of dreams,
my body towed behind as if hypnotized
by her undulant wake. How can I
trust these wet promises, given
with such alien ease? I have no aides
sealed safe in wax-encrusted ears
to bind me to some mast,
knotted against my low nature.
Only the infirmity of distance
cripples my pursuit, keeps me off
the flinty rock of my desire
that rises, streaming with seaweed,
from the deep, chthonic Id.
I never have been King, nor never shall
be more than subject in this land I own.
Each week in time, I’m wrong to will,
strive, seek, and find, in hope she’ll yield
and that Penelope’s secure at home.