The sea is filled with madmen
weary of mermaids, seaweed
and the changelessness
of salt in their eyes.
They weave a bride out of sunbeams
and sea gull feathers
to hold in their webbed hands.
Vulcanic splendor, fire, mist,
she slips through their fingertips,
light and sharp as air bubbles in the veins.
Icicle tears congeal her smile.
treading the frenzied waves,
clutch at a wedding gown of foam
and wail like shipwrecked sailors
against the dissolution of dreams.
Poetry - Doris Vallejo
Art - Boris Vallejo