If You Must Know, I'm Really A Mermaid

There's dualism
in my small waist,
an arch to my back
that moves my hips
to shimmey grooves
and legs shape fluid
crescents on the ground.

I like how
the water wraps
around my arms,
slicksliding
over smooth skin's
smatterfreckles
and scars.

The tendrils of hair
weighted with
viscosity's volume
frame ecstasy's face;
flick shimmering
diamond drops with every
snap of vertebrae.

Morning rituals are
exhausting, but
I could dance
to my own beat
for hours.