配图 / Henn Kim


To the Air

His fisherman’s cap
is gray as is the sea
where he stares. He once
saw a mermaid

there near
the shore tangled
in kelp. She wanted him
to not see her. She wasn’t

a gift. He wasn’t. Yet
he stared. Keeps returning
to stare at the now
nothing he sees. Nothing

as in not her.
He once said he loved
her sea life.
He’s captured capturer.

Blame agony.
Blame perpetual
return to the kelp
stuck to his feet for

the wind over
ears in canals.
She’s singing
a water hymn

not to him
but to the air.
This is where
he dissolves.

Myronn Hardy

#诗歌