it is a sad tale,
the one they tell,
of undine
the changeling,
who took on legs
to walk the land
and dance
on those ungainly stalks
before a prince
of the earthfolk.
he betrayed her;
they always do
the landsmen.
her arms around him
meant little more
than a finger of foam
curled around his ankle.
her lips on his
he thought cold,
brief and cold
as the touch of a wave.
he betrayed her,
left her to find
her way back home
over thousands of land miles,
the only salt her tears,
and she as helpless
as a piece of featherweed
tossed broken onto the shore.




arbeit mit feder und tusche.