Lighthouse on Bayside Drive

At the lighthouse

where the blackened waves

crush into rocks shaped like spears,

where the seagulls morph into vultures

and search for an evening sea-side meal,

a bloated body floats on the water’s surface.

Ships alight with booze and good cheer dock

for the evening, and don’t notice the mystery

in the water beneath.

The island’s myths say the killer is a Siren,

those ancient witches with songs of lust

and taunting and temptation.

Others fear the spirit of a young girl

torments the sea she drowned in,

hungry to claim anyone who enters.

At the lighthouse,

the waves conceal the truth and bury proof

Under their weight, she waits for another.