Greenman meets a mermaid?

Greenman thinks he has seen the mermaid gliding just beneath the surface. Or maybe he's heard her sing. Or maybe he's just imagining a reincarnation of . . .


NEFERTITI

When the sky turns deep dawn blue,
I sink in a bath of wild musk
rose petals. Though we proclaim
the One God, we don’t discard
our divinity. A Goddess
must seduce the sun. Daughters
shave my body, anoint me
with cinnamon and myrrh.
Their careful hands keep my nipples
hard. Arousal is my religion.
They dress me in gauze and gold,
bejeweled with chips of hard light.
A choir of blinded men sings
our praises. They hear me jingle,
smell the perfume of my skin,
my sex. Imagination
makes them hard. When the horizon
turns pink and purple, I loosen
the red sash. My gown whispers
to the floor. I weave between
the daughters and the choir,
stalking the altar, waiting
for the luminous moment
to sprawl spread eagle,
to thrust my hips at the red
rim rising above the sands,
to arch my breasts into the sky.
The first sun shaft penetrates me,
turns the slow slick heat to flame.
The blind men raise their voices
to match my cry. We rejoice
together. Blessed. Consumed.