A Siren for Sore Eyes

Against a tempting tide

Image by Tithi Luadthong from Shutterstock.com

At the helm of an ever-listing ship.

Someone’s always changing up the tides but I suppose I’ve made it my duty to stay one surf ahead of the suds.

What can I do but extend my busted telescope and scan the horizon for those old forgotten peak-a-boos? Stalagmites of salvation, breaching the aquatic atmosphere, reaching from the depths of the underworld toward an open sky untouched by the beasts of Mother’s belly. The only real aim for a creature on the float.

Tattered map in hand, but still a plaything for the winds of change. Always on the salty hunt for the elusive island hanging off the edge of the world. It’s in its nature to draw your sleepy eye away from its true coordinates.

Tossing temptations and hypnotic mirage into your line of sight. Action distracted by the romance and shimmering flicker of a mermaid’s tail quietly disappearing into the water again, just at the corner of my eye, leaving ripples rolling through the tempest of a mortal mind.

Siren wails keep my spirit sniffing for the scraps that would only serve to feed an addiction. A slave to the sand that forms in my mouth with every desperate bite of emotional nourishment. Another illusory chomp at the bit. Holographic and beautiful. Dream feed for a bird in need. But never enough to quell the hunger of the heroic.

Never enough to straighten the eyes that sleep in separate beds.

One glued to those distant mountain tops, already rehearsing the words to be shouted at the Gods of the Peak, the other in love with the mystery of the deep, reluctantly longing for the song of the Siren, their promise of immortality, and the comfort of a life underwater.

Scott Leonardi 2026

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