Tags
Adrea Kore, Female Ejaculation, Female Sexuality, Flash Fiction, Mermaids, Prose-Poetry, Wicked Wednesday
Water Serpents II – Gustav Klimt
Inside, I am oceanic-eternal. Like a medieval map of the world, my reality spills over the edges of the known. My contours and deeps are uncharted; it is uncertain where I begin or end.
Here there be Mermaids …
I will sing to you, lover, sing of my mysterious sea-secrets. The endless undulations of me; pleasure filling me, chalice-like, with briny wine for you to sip from. Let my hair caress your hips, your mouth, like filaments of pale seaweed. Let it wrap about you, binding you to me.
Come, set sail upon me. Be my explorer, my cartographer. The stars are in alignment, love. Together, we are the journey.
Part me, as Moses parted the Red Sea, a miracle act, here, too. Your questing flesh, an expanding promise, riding high on my inner tides. I sigh out with pleasure in wet waves of release; contract, back, with the moon’s powerful pull. Ebbing. Flowing.
Je suis la mer …
Sail me, in your boat of longing, as a brave sailor will. Sometimes, I am the calm of a tranquil harbour, lapping gently at your prow. Other times, I am surging waves, impossible depths, the suck and broil of hungry currents crashing against your sides, salt-sprays high over your star-seeking mast.
And here there be dragons …
I can shipwreck you, lover, leave you gasping for breath, disoriented and drenched on the coastline of my belly.
Touch me, leave your wet finger-prints as memories in the sands of my shores. Dipping, spiralling, diving deep, you plunder me, asunder me.
Your fingers are learning me. Your fingers learn fast. Your fingers are listening inside me.
Secrets, whisper-dripped desires that fall from the walls of my underwater cave. Filling up the whorls on your finger-tips with the drawn-out pleasure of me.
Ebbing. Flowing.
You carry my secrets on your hands into the world. I imagine you touching your fingers to your lips when you crave the scent of mystery amidst the everyday.
Sail me to the land beneath the evening star; believe not the myth that it is always just out of reach. Drop your anchor down,
down,
down.
Perhaps you will not reach the bottom, but float suspended in me forever…
My contours and depths are uncharted. It is uncertain where I begin or end.
I am oceanic-eternal. A mermaid dwells in my briny sea-cave, and she will sing her siren song, whether I wish her to or not.
Men have drowned in me.
But you, you have lived to tell your tale. Tales of your night sea-journeyings.
When the stars are in alignment, lover, will you come sail me again?
© Adrea Kore, 2016
Myths about mermaids fascinate me; their link to feminine sexuality and the unconscious. My piece is part micro-fiction (flash), part prose-poem. I think I’ll be recording this one soon.
I’m delighted to find creative synchronicity this week has led me to Marie Rebelle’s wonderful “Mermaid” theme this week for Wicked Wednesday. Thanks, Leonora for giving me the nudge. Click the button to discover more mermaid explorations …
