Mermaid Verse

music flows from lips and as words meet sound bound and found me, your eyes wide open, soul sprightly greeting thee….

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Tried to Stay in the Lines By Megan Seaman Saturday, December 8, 2012, 11:36PM…writing this dissertation. Feeling the itch to get the heyell out of town. Send me to the sea, east. And then I’ll be happy.

marble floors and alligator, richmond, va

marble floors and alligator, richmond, va

“Um pardon me,

but I never told you

That I’d be the one to bend and twist

To fit in to this

bureaucracy of nonsense!


This is ridiculous,

upsetting and obscene.

Practiced and posed to prove to you

My worth.


But I’m worthless to you without

The degree of pristine needed

To prance through shiny waxed halls

Of slippery linoleum


And you told’em that they don’t

Even make it anymore — not that old-fashioned

Sheen that reflects the nauseating

Fluorescent light from blazing tubes


And beam

with sickening buzz,



And the sarcasm bears a weight

That’s not funny at all.

And I feel my belly gurgle

In that unsavory way, as if

I might retch up late day bologna.


Fumbling, stumbling down checkered halls

Walls, concrete and cold

Painted in grey vanilla hues


Hearing the click of my heals on that fake

Linseed and cork,

I shuffled, blundered for the door

‘til I couldn’t stand it, anymore


and practically fell through the threshold

to my knees and breathed

a breath unfamiliar to my lungs


something like freedom, but sweeter

to the taste

yes, it was more like serenity

ecstatic joy in place of all

that functionary jive!” – Megan Marie Seaman


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To Mess With Winter (12-1-2012) by Megan Seaman

“Lips covered

with sticky balm

So I’ll kiss you

with my nose and my cheek

Fingers separated by sheeps’ clothes

So I’ll touch you with boxing gloves,

No man to know the feel the forfeit and weak

Arms and chest hidden behind synthetic puffs

Made by faces of bombastic northerner race

So I’ll burrow into you with royal crown,

rest my tumid belly down,

While swollen wings bring you in my space

And the texture covered my lover’s legs

Like burlap or canvas or gunny sacks

So I’ll wrap the limbs that held me up

around his roots, my source, our backs

But even as the vines that crept through toes

They could not penetrate

So I’ll hold down the foot that would move so swift

Without question or motion to hesitate

and I should have known better

than to mess with winter

trying to bring the dead back to life.





Our souls to be the sacrifice.” – Megan Marie Seaman