Poetry by Claire Walker : A Love Poem to Prince Eric

A Love Poem to Prince Eric

This is very out of character:
to spy you there on the sliding deck
and immediately drown in your eyes,
those blue spheres arrowed through with panic.
Your ship blazing, my teenage heart
held inside the flame. 

What words, Eric!

It’s true, I was captured
by the solidness of land, but objects – 
the metallic shimmer of a fork,
the smoky wood of a pipe – 
are different, Eric; are not the living curve of a face.

It was easy, really – the way plans are –
as simple as opening my mouth,
to swallow a potion
and numb all but thoughts of you. 

And, Eric, didn’t I glide to you,
through the only home I’d ever known,
up through the silent fathoms,
leaving all trace of my life to the shoreline.

It used to be enough 
that you were swayed by my smile,
by red hair waved about my cheekbones.
But I have learned, Eric, that the importance of looks 
dissolves like words written underwater,
their ink smeared through with brine. 

Every one of my thoughts is trapped inside.
Each plausible word is a fish writhing in net.
Too late, I understand the residue of spells,
sour sting in a muted throat. 

This is very out of character.
Ordinarily, I would swim.
Ordinarily, I would sing.