Water Babies

We bob, we bob
discarded corks
of a king gone mad
Pale oceanic arms wrap us
in frothing swells
Our soft pink fists
bleed warmth into the wet

Our cries, our cries
not drowned by roaring waves
crescendo in outrage
Freeze the marrow
of sentries on the shores
Mewling we flail
at the mad king’s spume

We sink, we sink
tumble down to seaweed beds
curl beneath the timeless sand
Gurgle at ease with fish
who nibble our toes
We listen to lullaby tides
as Sirens sing their deeds

Come join us, come join us
as guilty as any
who ever breathed
We suckle mother sea
anchored by Arthur
who would submerge a thousand Mordreds
and a future all too clear

Leading Edge Spring 1994