Sirens

I have seen the shapes of women
Illuminating bouldered shores,
Inviting me to come to them
Or crash and cling to broken oars.

Perhaps they saw my little boat
And thought of me, across the waves,
Like some red-blooded Parthenope
Inviting them to frigid graves.

We are all passing in the night
With dreams of mooring in our docks,
All nourishing our little lights,
All lurking behind jagged rocks.