A Drift

by Abbey Schlanz

Mermaid music curls over waves—

I am but a passenger on their chilly sea,

a stranger paddling through water and song

with no feast to offer, no roses to trade.

The night sky scrapes silken skin—

strips all dress under the curve of an orange


My body parachutes over bomboras before spilling onto the edge of the sea—

twisted and sore.

With the smell of dusk plastered to my hair,

I chisel at the stars.