One Siren Less

by K.M. Praschak

 

We lost our voice
half past twelve today
at County-Memorial,
not far from the water.

The conjurer, ever our enemy,
tricked our sister onto his ship
and from there to labor and delivery.

Now she's tied to a new master
whose cries and thrashing fists
break the weaving of our songs
into notes we cannot hear.

Odysseus laughs as our wails tear the river.

 

© 2005 K.M. Praschak

K. M. Praschak, who moved back to Northeastern Oklahoma some years ago after time out West, writes short fiction, poetry, and personal finance articles when not fighting the sweet gum trees and dodging the azaleas.