‘The Merman Has Had a Plethora of Boyfriends, Hence His Cold Heart’ by Serge ψ Neptune

The first boyfriend wonders how sex should work.
There must be among these scales an opening to pleasure.

The second boyfriend gives the merman syphilis, in Hólmavík,
while fucking in the public toilets of the museum
of Icelandic Witchcraft & Sorcery, during a visit.
The merman remembers how the penicillin shots hurt.

With the third boyfriend the merman starts to cling
to whatever mirrors reflect the part of himself he wants to be true.
He goes to bed early to avoid another argument.

Show me how to use that knife, the merman says to the fourth boyfriend
and watches as he applies the blade to the wrists like a soothing balm.

You’ll get your money back, the merman says to the fifth boyfriend,
I just need time.

You mermen can be real tossers sometimes, says the sixth boyfriend.

To the seventh boyfriend, the merman explains why life under sea has its issues
that so much solitude leads to an apnea of feelings that cools the heart
to an icicle.

Being with the eighth boyfriend is like launching a new form of sex
that’s already obsolete, a dead-end to a newborn relationship.

Don’t hold out on me, says the merman to the ninth boyfriend,
tell me what you really like.

Right now, in some very tiny flats in Japan,
young couples are resorting to octopuses
to revive their passion.

From issue #9: autumn/winter 2019 

About the Author
Serge ψ Neptune is a London-based poet, translator and Faber Academy alumnus. His work has appeared in Ink Sweat & Tears, Strange Poetry and Grinding Poetry. He has also been among the finalists of the 9th Fortnight Poetry Prize organized by Eyewear Publishing. He has read his poems at Words & Jazz and other events.