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The Perfect Depth Of The Mermaids

Slowly and tiny do you slide
and slip yourself from your necklace
of entwined seaweeds,
and you wriggle behind the stairs
of this stonny trampoline.

And firmly you perch your legs
on these sharp razors,
that shave Neptune's frothy
and curry beard.

Breeze drunks you riding this
oceanic horse over the dissolved
hills of salt.

And from the electric jelly of "Medusae"
you feed our skin finnings,
turning on cold and shining scales
of silvered blue,
which smilingly they immerse us,
more and more,
in the perfect depth of the mermaids.

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