What the Troll Said to the Mermaid

 Sometimes, when the sky turns to violence,
Sometimes I get a look at you.
And even though I know, you own the storm,
I am prepared to be a weatherman,
If you could be my mirror.

I’ve seen visions of the young eagles –
Perfect children of a mediocre clan –
Living only, for all their graces,
For endless metabolic conquest.

I see myself reflected in your eyes:
A twisted human pantomime,
An object of benign derision,
Unless proximity breeds terror.
In my eyes, unless I am reflected,
I am an ancient and derisive sage,
Living in darkness by my own choosing,
Straightened by others’ deformities.

Solitary life has one advantage:
I am not often overcome by visions
Of my own bent form reflected in your face.
But when it storms, I get a glimpse of you,
And then I wish that I could be an eagle,
And see perfection mirrored in your eyes.

1980