Blue-Tailed mermaid

Mom gave me that blue-tailed mermaid so I could forget about you. 

I knew the strands of yellow yarn hair would tangle 

and tear, knotted nightmares under my twin bed cot. 

I wish you could see her now, blue scaly tail, 

yellow yarn hair, 

and a big fat belly. 

Tell me, how did she grow a waist so big? 

 

That blue-tailed mermaid, a waste 

of a gift to lift my drooping eyes 

and pinched tight smile. 

Silent prayers all while tracing that belly, 

bracing your absence, a race

until that blue-tailed mermaid and 

I left your side. 

No, you.

You left, except your breath still 

swims free in the hallways, I’ll always

know drowning 

from death. I wish I tried, 

goodbye was not a word I could even 

whisper your way. I still hurt 

and hold my breath today like I held 

that blue-tailed mermaid,

tight, 

tight 

around the neck.

 

Mom gave me that blue-tailed mermaid so I could forget about you,

but now all it reminds me of is how sorry I felt, 

squeezed into my jeans,

knelt under your favorite tree 

trying hard to remember.

December came and you were gone.

 

Ruby Rose Moscone