The air is cold and crisp
when the Syren calls to him.
Her voice is cool,
it flows along the deck
and summons his feet to move,
his heart to thump.
Water crashes around the ship,
yet lays calm and black
around her waist.
He leans closer.
What a strange thing to see in the night:
Gilded locks caressing the velvet sea,
a half formed smile,
fully exposed breasts.
The thrum and crash of salt licked waves
are silent.
The boat creaks but he does not hear.
All is held,
held within her gaze.
She whispers to him and he leans close,
“Come to me fisherman
For you know I am lonely,
Come to the water,
Come to me.”
Salty scales
weigh a man’s heart.
They hold him still
‘til the cloth of his pants
are wet,
her body wrapped securely around him.
And then under,
Under,
Under…
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.