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The Last Mermother
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
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70 thelastmermother IusedtofishinSanFranciscoBay, withoutanet,forloveaswellasfood. Outbythewater,onalong,coolday, Ihadaplacetogo,andsometimetobrood. Theonlywomanusually,Iglued myhandstotherod.Menleftmealone;Ienjoyed thosedays,untilthedayIwasdestroyed. Itstartedwithatentativetug,slow,confined withoutaglanceorthepressureofahand. Thenitteasedmelikeasimple,othermind acrossmyown,vibratingwithcommand. ThenIalmostfell,asshechargedhighandfanned openhertailfins,archingthroughthespray ofherownragingwhitewake.Don’tlookaway! Listen.Ibreathed,andshetoreawaytheline andraisedherface—heremptyeyes—beside thedock.Shehowled,stretchingherhandtomine, floatinghertailintherockingofthetide assheclungtotheslipperypostbelow.Itried tolookather.Isawthatitwastrue. Well,whatwouldyouhavedone?Ihelpedherthrough therailing.Drapedwithclammyseaweedstrands, shewiggledherhugeshouldersthroughandlay floppingalongthepier,withthoseopenhands stillheldtowardsme.NowIknowthatwastheday Ilostmymind.She’sfollowedmetheway abeggarcouldhauntadoorway.She’sinmyshade wheneverIfeelemptyorafraid. 71 Lookathernow;bynowshe’sgrowingold. Wehearhereverynight,thatsinging,through theheartlessair,carriedonthecold enchantmentoftheCaliforniadew, futileandendlessnotes,awordlessclue pouredoutoverthedeafenedland.Iwish, sometimes,I’dthrownherbackinlikeafish, whenIsawherbreasts.Amother!Istillcan’tsay ifmyfishinghookkilledit,orifshe droppeditinthestruggle,butofcourseitdiedthatday. AndIknowwhereveritfell,theremustbe ashrinkinginthewaves,thehissingsea, acrustofsandstillthickeningontheedge ofitsquietbones. ...