Memory

Lying on a bed of leaves
Your discarded crown of daisies
Wilts in the noonday sun
I scatter pieces of it into the stream
Where quicksilver carries them away
To unknown lands and unknown seas
Farther and faster than I could ever fly
Wondering if a memory could possibly reach you

Pretty Bow

If I tied a string to my wrist
Weighed down by a silver charm
And cast off the other end into the ocean
Would I be robbed by a dolphin’s nosy poke
Or tango with the eight arms of a great octopus?
Would I be nibbled at by the lionfish
Or find myself wedged between the pink polyps of coral?
I throw my lure and three vibration afterwards, pull.
Out of the ocean rises a clam’s shell, knotted in a pretty bow:

The mermaids have good taste.