Siren's Supper

Little sailor how you run, swimming up to the surface. But it is too late you see, far too deep to escape. The rushing waves push you down, back into my strong embrace. You push and fidget and fumble, but still turn to see my Face. Open your mouth, my darling dinner. Release your breath unto me. It is sweet and gentle, tasting nothing of the sea. Your hold is gently slipping. Your chest begins to slow. But I will hold you close until it is time to go. And when you’re still and sleeping, I’ll lay you to rest. But I see other little sailors swimming to my nest. And my belly still hungers. Only filled will it rest.