A Mirage On The Water Poem by Chris Zachariou

Each day at noon, I cycled
in the pungent fumes of melting tar
to a pubescent mirage on the water.

We were bound to each other
by ancient folklore of the land;
I, the young protégée of the sea,
seething, always unsated and, she
the precious daughter of the master.

Dressed in homespun blue
she glided to the beach at 2 pm
guarded by her father's scathing
psalms and holy hymn books.

For many hours, I watched her lay
on the rocks in an other-worldly reverie
until I could almost taste the salt
and seaweed on her sunburnt thighs.

Whims of tortured youth—
We gorged on sweet apricots and figs
drifting on a raft we borrowed from
a sightless minstrel.

Vengeful monks nailed us on a cross
without mercy for the sin of youth.
We prayed for us, we prayed for Jesus
and together sought refuge from the elders
in the vastness of the cerulean sea.