She saw those men as sea folk
writhing to her music,
submerged and simpleminded.
Above the breach of white water
she sang,
“And you were blinded.”

She crashed overtop their heads,
their scales, their slime, their stink.
She crashed and the sea folk wailed,
“We’re thirsty; let us drink.”

She saw those men as drowning
in the tides of her refrain,
their voices thin and folded.
She watched them plunge beneath
the waves,
as the world above revolted.