Sirenomelia Baby
   (foetal specimen, pathology museum)
 

This little mermaid is jarred; feels the moon tug
At the kernel of fluid she floats in. Sealed
So far from the sea, stranded in a tiny glass pool
Beyond the highest tide, she holds hands spread
Like seahorse fins up to her face, as if to scan
A horizon she’ll never see. Her eyes are wide,
Avid for distance, for the swell of the ocean’s
Breathing, for cold depths to swim in, her sky
A silver skin above. She gasps for salt water.
 
‘Syreniform.’ A myth brought to brief life
For a place in seaside freak shows, she floats
As if poured from a genie’s lamp. She tapers
From the waist; legs, feet, fused into this blade
Of a tail, no genitals, kidneys, no way out
For the milk she cried for. Born ephemeral
As a damsel fly, this tiddler’s a throwback
To a time when we all swam; stranded
By evolution, cut off from our true home.
 


* Valerie Laws has written eight books and specialises in science/poetry installations. Her current poetry project explores the science of dying, through residencies in Egypt, with Wellcome Trust, and currently at a London pathology museum and Newcastle University