Nuestra Señora de las Maravillas Lost at Sea, 1527
by Lisa M. Bradley
(published in Strange Horizons, October 3, 2016)
Nobody needs your damn armada.
Come hear the truth from me.
I'll tie you to the mast, Capitán,
kelp-tickle your beard
as you sink into the sea.
No more a mermaid
than a taxidermied monkey
neither selkie nor siren
am I
nothing so glorified.
Solamente soy una guadaña:
spindrift and ozone solidified,
fashioned human on this armature
of shipwreck splinters
and adipocere.
Soon I will flow back
lentamente
a kiss dissolving into Mother . . .
Insidious as rats in steerage,
I infiltrated your crew.
Tongue oily as seals, I pirated
your words, a language that skewers sea,
making masculine.
In these dark alleys
between night-crested waves,
I whispered queries marlin-sharp
to sailor and soldier alike.
See how they rise,
Mutiny their answer.
I smashed your puny sextants
on principle, slashed your maps
for spite.
Now ready your wrists
for my lightning strike.
And seeded throughout your fleet
my salt sisters shadow me . . .
The only monarch we mind:
Oceana
(To your knees! The deep-sea chorus
sings! "Celosa medusa, Hermosa bruja . . .").
The only regent we recognize:
her bastard consort Gravity.
Too long have you siphoned
sacrifices meant for our goddess,
too often squandered blood
on beaches that should have slaked
the whirlpool mouths of
our queen. Mi reina
sends assassins not ambassadors,
death not diplomacy.
For her, I bleed.
A monad in the depths, I dreamed darker
than the ichor spilling from this illusion.
This effigy is a shell
soon to be discarded . . .
Propelled by Majesty's orders
I clip throats and sails.
With whale-oil overboard I ignite
mis hermanas olas
so bright your enemies
shield their eyes on shore.
Proud, I bring this plague ship
to port on benthic floor.
Your flotilla twirls and tumbles,
castillos al revés.
Mother mocks your keeled cathedrals
and turns them into pearls.
A fantasy mixed with history! A persona poem! A poem based on an actual event!
This poem has luscious language, which in a lot of poems would not work. But here, coming from a mermaid, it seems natural. And talk about attitude! This speaker has got an attitude, which she explains the reasons behind in the poem, making a reasonable argument. The reader leaves this poem convinced--of course mermaids are sinking ships and killing sailors and pirates (see stanza 5)--why wouldn't they?
There are so many fun lines to love: "kelp-tickle your beard," "I smashed your puny sextants/
on principle, slashed your maps/for spite," "The only regent we recognize:/her (Oceana's) bastard consort Gravity" are three of my favorites.
The story of the ship can be found at Smithsonian Magazine.
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