Tag Archives: sirens

Silver Siren

With an outstretched arm,
He beckons her, hair
Tousled like fallen leaves, eyes
Partially slitted open.

Climb onto my legs,
He begs, while she stands, bare
Breasts scooping up
Towards the ceiling.

Come, come,
Join us, she says,
Her fingers curl and point.
He wants her.

He doesn’t see the rules
Carved into her flesh,
Invisible and welcomed brands.
Come, she whispers again.

But his fear has set it, and
His nakedness mocks
Like a house of mirrors,
He wants her, alone.

One last try,
But her hand slides
As if oiled in preparation,
A tin woman,

She does have a heart but it’s
Locked beneath silver paint
And aluminum.
She trails off,

Leaving a door open
So he can hear the squeaks
Of her movements, they
Echo like hands, sliding

Over his cool skin.
His groin flexes
As he catches her lingering musky scent.
Come, come, come,

She murmurs.
He stumbles up, half-asleep,
Searching. Come, come,
Come, her whispers

Sliver like snakes
Squeezing the air from his chest.
Her voice is louder now,
Singing behind a corner.

He pivots to find her,
But her hazel eyes aren’t there,
Nor her long, spidery limbs,
Or her messy straw hair.

All that’s left are her lips,
Pink and chaffed from repetition,
They heave open
And then close,

Their wet, hungry gravity
Pulls him in.

Come, come, come,
She whispers.