Sirens

Sirens

down by the causeway
the water is still, the same
candles in your hands are nothing but
wax and soot
the ash you rub beneath your dress, into exposed limbs
leave dark brown finger streaks in their wake.

I sing about how I brought you carnations,
buried each fat stem between your toes,

watched them withered by the waters edge
each petal, in turn, turning in.
sticking to your wading thighs
going in, going down, gone.

I sing about the rocks out by the headland,
and the flowers that float there,

but by the seas edge
the footmarks are still, same
soot and wax turn in the tide
the white pearls and
petals between your blackened toes
floating away with the sound of your song.