La Sirena Poem

‘Where Do the Sirens Meet?’ Collective Poem by La Sirena

Where do the sirens meet?

At the turning into evening

They meet in the eardrum of a grandfather clock

They meet in the glint of sunlit underground vistas

They meet in dry patches under the sea

The sirens meet in the inner ear of Odysseus

In the library of Alexandra – or of Babylon on public holidays

They meet where the dream of midnight kisses the sun

At the confluence of the lost rivers of London

They meet in the ocean’s hot springs

They meet hand in hand garlanded in petals and tears

In the bride’s train

Where the three hemispheres meet

They meet on the giant chessboard 

At the hour of the wolf

In the rose made of seashells

They meet through the mirrors 

When the stars are right

In the place of whispers 

In equality

They meet in waking dreams

They meet in the clocks without time 

Under my lover’s curse

They meet in the smiles of lovers 

In the ghost stations of the underground

Coffins brimming with yeast

They meet in the shadows of living ghosts 

In echoes

In hopes

They meet in the miracle of becoming

They meet in the hazy daydreams of tomorrow 

In the folds of time

They meet in period novels 

They meet without limits

Under the moons of forgotten worlds

They meet in black and white 

After the ball is over

They meet in the womb of the mountain 

They meet on giant clams to play with phantom limbs

They meet inside her silver castle 

In the mouth of madness

They meet on the dissecting table 

At the Tannhäuser Gate

Where my first childhood grew glass antlers

They meet in the androgynous islands 

Down a dirt track road

In the swollen ant hills of Arabia

They meet on Pangaea

Within the old house filled with swallows and love letters

They meet on purpose

They meet on the tail of an upset cat

They meet beyond the border 

In a feline landscape composed from the glassy stares of the first sirens

They meet in each other’s gaze 

In Plato’s prism

In haunted houses

In a message, glimpsed in a mirror, from a borrowed dream

They meet in de Sade’s chateau 

In my silent laughter

They meet on the screens of abandoned movie theatres

They meet without prejudice

At the lighthouse

On someone else’s sacred ground

‘Bilibin’s Dream’ (Collage, Daina Kopp)

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