It has been precisely two years,
some months and days,
since she last raised her head
above the waves.

Ophelia, if only
water was the only way,
and she hadn’t grown gills,
waiting for something
long since lost.

A mermaid chewing bones,
now she swims in her cave
with a coral crown
and a silver chain.

Apologies are obsolete
from the mouths of the forgiven,
but she hides her smile away.

No shrine is ever so beautiful
once the flowers have ceased to rain.

© Deanna Scutt, 2017

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