The Siren’s Song

by the beach holding a drink with ice,
my tongue sways slowly in the sun like sand,
a horizon, and deep oceans band,
dancing to long wakes rays softly entice.
 
a thick siren has not whispered her price,
while she sings between two rocks near the land,
I do not wish in her bays ships to strand,
even though her small song much can suffice.

empty cans rattling in a black bag,
for a garbage truck serves as an alarm to rise,
with a fine moon that has begun to sag;

sickened at what she has boiled for a prize,
smothering the body with an old rag:
the snap of a beam blossomed his demise.