Sirena, feels very close.
it’s a riptide
on a moonless night
stealthy and inexorable
pulling
out to a pounding
sea
you grab
for his hand
but he “will drag you under, too”
it’s without logic
the ghastly ripples
unpredictable
across generations of pain
you dive in
desperate
to save
try again
it’s no good
you can’t reach
the rope’s too short and the sea too rough
if only they would get help
but they don’t, won’t
and so it’s intractable
this persistent murmur, glacial masquerade, madness
a sibling to genius, sure
yet right here, right now?
it’s a scourge–
now hush!
we won’t speak of it
it’s pretending
that the rip’s not there
and maybe that’s the worst