The Mermaid of Zennor

She waits beneath
the cold blue
with myriad little fishes
in her tangled hair;
She waits beneath the waves,
her green tail thrashing,
flinging up songs to call down
bodies lonely as she,
handsome bodies that
drown as they fall to her;
but the ships which pass above
are empty, or deaf.

Then between the waves:
a soft tenor-- a harmony
that matches her voice,
which, alone, was thin and sharp--
but now is rich and lovely;
She swims toward the sound,
sunbeams breaking through
the water in golden streams
as her tail flicks and fish
dart away in startlement.

Up and out she goes through
the breaking waves,
drawing a breath of air,
pulled up by one human sound
into light and life.