Seaman’s Ruin

When mermaids moved his water’s tide
he rain-danced for a drought.
When sea breeze bore him succubi
he spat their nectar out.

‘Neath harpie-studded skies he yearned. 
In nymphen pools he swam.
By legs, and lips, and lies, he learned
the measure of a man.

Though edge to edge he crossed this Earth
lured by a siren sound,
the only fate he didn’t flirt
was six feet underground.

But now he knows of ebb and flow,
the strife of ice and fire,
a giant man slain by a stone,
the death-march of desire.

On solid land he finally rests.
His ship, a sunken shell.
A temptress for his tempest.
A heaven for his hell.

So, show him, gorgon, to your eyes.
He’s been too long on the run.
Just navigate him through your thighs
and drown him when you’re done.