Karen Hall
Stuck in a lamp—with legs cramp,the humidity, “horribly damp,”makes my skin sweat—with fallen drops of fret.Stranded, alone,dismal misery shone,my lips whisper, “Moan.”My eyes cry rue—while my heart woo—as I reflect tonight,“Rub my lamp right.”Worried about my lot,“Am I a slave sought—with rusted rot—in this forsaken—lamp of olden,whence days told then?Or would a wink steer—a fisherman near?”In saltwater I sink,“A Mermaid’s Wink.”