NANCY LYNEE WOO
Lament for a Skin (Ode to a
Silkie)
Salt
flurry of wind rush
the
boy running to his mother
breathless—
this
one moment agape forever.
Eyes
like the crest of a wave
sea
foam locks
heart
stricken for the blue
she sees what he holds.
Slick
black skin, pelt shining
damp
of seal—
she
grabs it and the music plays.
Doesn’t even ask
where
he found it
but
kisses him tightly, yelling
for
the others, sun-beaten arms
closing
around them like a lid.
Quick,
hard love and she
turns
to release the door,
as
blown about as
the western wind.
Honey
legs tumbling down
to
shore, pillow of dress
sloughing
down to the sand,
she catches
sight
of a man, shadowy
in
the distant green,
stopping
as
his fishing pole drops
toward
a gallop.
But
she is already at the sea
glistening
joy of ocean mist
and
her hands are already gone
and
her legs are kicking into fin
and
her lips are whiskering away
as
the light plays upon the waves
and
she calls to her children, goodbye.
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