My Son in the Sea

Lisa Zerkle

Somehow he knows he can breathe in both

water and air. See how he grows piscine,

dull on land, iridescent in the deep.

Delicate flesh of my blood and my bone.

How many bodies can this world hold?

Men want to examine where exactly

skin meets scale. You can’t have it both ways,  

choose: man or fish? Not a man, say the men.

Don’t listen to them, sing the sirens,

preening their feathers (being as they are

part woman, part bird). What will the fish say?

Neptune, I’m counting on you in your pearl

and coral grotto, where distinctions are not

so brightly lit, where sea horses are not

horses, where starfish are not fish, but stars.

More from Lisa Zerkle ↓

• @hag_lore on Instagram
• Listen to Lisa on Painted Bride Quarterly's Slush Pile podcast, where the editorial team discusses submissions, editorial issues, writing, deadlines, and cuckoo clocks.
• You can listen to me read Motherhood by Lisa on Instagram @rembrandts.cure