Siren by Colin Crewdson

This is your odyssey sir
cooed the barmaid
the waves are yours to ride

the laminated sky
is your road
It’s crumbling with stories

the maps are nicely torn
and the dust swirls are performing
their spirals saluted by the usual dogs

So why wear clothes?  she asked
be touched by the air
let the cockerels make dimples

of noise on your skin
It’s your choice

She began singing softly instead
no wings (yet) to surprise my nakedness

they would follow as the day tired


Colin Crewdson lives in Devon, England, and has followed a career investigating the mishaps of life and history. His poems have appeared in The Journal, Ink Sweat and Tears, The High Window, The Open Mouse amongst others.



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