Dear sister, I understood your longing, for I felt it first. 
Lying on the sandbank, sea waves quietly tickling your fins, 
ears windswept for once. Music, carriages, voices, church bells 
rang in the early morning when the moon still bathed our scales. 

Baby sister, I enraptured you before the sailor's shadow. 
I only wanted your janthina eyes to story-shimmer. 
I do not know if you walk, dance, wrap those legs ‘round a hirsute back, 
or if the seafoam I swim through is what man calls — 'your ashes.' 

Sweet sister, I dive deeper to find the hoard of human junk 
I see now are treasures. Your treasures. I wear them to keep you 
a part of me, forever. My camouflaging cobalt tail has become 
the color of your hair. These 'ear rings' that matched you so well 

frame my coral face. I found blood is also the shade. No one knew. 
The jewels' sheen shrouded my shark bait composure. 

Author’s Note: The first stanza directly references Hans Christian Anderson’s description of the eldest sister. A janthina is otherwise known as a purple sea snail. They live their entire lives floating at the top of the ocean, upside down and attached to a living Portuguese Man-Of-War, able to consume, store, and reuse the stings. They acquire their beautiful purple coloration from eating the Man-Of-War’s body. Interpret that as you will.