Sarah Frances Moran

La sirena (“the mermaid”)


Con los cantos de sirena, no te vayas a marear.

Don’t be swayed by the songs of the siren.



She tells me to

approach with caution.


She tells me that

the sun burns and don’t I

remember the last time?


I have a way of forgetting.

of finding the ocean in a

sun storm.


When she whispers

it sounds like a hurricane.


I find storms muy romántico.


She tells me tell her

Hola guapa. 


She tells me to be happy.

That she doesn’t understand

my love of gringas, pero

be happy.



She sings to me.

She is fire and she four alarms

inside me.

She lights my path and doesn’t

turn around in my dark hallways.


She teaches me about protection.


About the way a tree creates bark.

How we’re stronger when we’re weak.


She becomes the waves I long for.

The feel of crashing and breaking and rebuilding.


Here is the sun.

Here is the pull of gravity.

Here is the song.


Here is an ear against a conch shell.

An ear against a heart.

Hear me beat.  beat.  beat.

Here me approach without caution.

Here me sink and smile.


Sarah Frances Moran is a writer, editor, animal lover, videogamer, queer Chicana. She thinks Chihuahuas should rule the world and prefers their company to people 90% of the time. Her work has most recently been published or is upcoming in Acentos Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Bop Dead City and Chiron Review. She is Editor/Founder of Yellow Chair Review. You may reach her at

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