What Happens in Eden

Before bras and blow dryers,
before mascara and diets,
I wish to be a mermaid.

Naked from the waist up,
tail of a fish,
slippery scales winking
in pools of mercury.

When I swim
the flap of my tail
propels me like a jet.
I weave between pink and white coral,
play tag with electric eels.

I control the sailors
with my soft moans,
like a whale’s song.
I would be a mermaid,
I heard they soothe the sick
lord over the weather
Perform magic tricks for sea anemones.

But that was before.

Before my best friend tells me
to put on a shirt.
Suddenly, my hot face
tingles with red shame.

Before my gym teacher
says I have nice legs
so why should I
cover them
with a tail?

Before my Dad
stares at my chest and
tells me not to worry,
“More than a handful
is a waste.”

Before I
Hold my breath
in a chlorinated pool,
(not even in an ocean),
and come up gagging.

I get it now;
before, after.
I would have chosen mermaid,
but that ship sailed without me.

Left me wondering
whether to warn
my little sister
not to bother.