Melusine's Friday Night

When I pour in
the lime-green salts,
 
the bath becomes
a tight dark well
 
and I head down
through silt and sludge
 
to scrape my scales
on ancient slabs.
 
Skid on belly,
slide on breasts;
 
coil flavescent,
flail that tail.
 
But when I step
back out again,
 
on splendid legs,
you’ll see no tail.
 
I’m soft and pink –
That’s all you need.               
 
You know the deal:               
don’t probe, don’t pry.        
 
Just dim the lights
and pour my drink.

Annette V olfing


If you have any comments on this poem, Annette Volfing  would be pleased to hear from you.