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Blue Marble Review

Literary Journal for Young Writers

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siren slumber

By Courtney Felle

sirens, eyes closed, on the rocks.

sirens, breath steady, floating

in the water, then looking

like they’re about to sink.

sirens, not screaming, not

singing, not ensnaring

men and pulling them down.

 

this time, when Odysseus’

unnamed ship passed those

rocky crags now silent and

unscathing, no gallery of

soprano voices lilted down

the cliffside, and the sirens

didn’t watch the men

watch them. they were out

as if with lotus, chamomile,

melatonin. as monsters and

as women (which are really

just the same uniform) they

were used to caring too much.

sleep let them care too little,

not at all—we are not

your protectors anymore,

their eyelids fluttered, sighed.

 

slicing through the oars, the water’s

blue made the men’s medals

glisten, with ribbon after ribbon

stuck on their shirts’ pockets.

the children in the village they’d

plunder later would never see

their accolades, nor would they

ever awaken like the sirens

the next day, wondering what

on earth they’d let happen, caused.

 

 

Courtney Felle is a daughter, dreamer, writer, watcher, waffle enthusiast, and recent high school alumna. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming at other publications including Jet Fuel Review, Moledro Magazine, and Chautauqua Literary Magazine. She herself is the founder and current editor-in-chief for Body Without Organs Literary Journal, which can be found online at http://bodywithoutorgans.weebly.com/.

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Issue Seven

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