On Hips and Angelfish

by Rebecca Anne Renner

I hate my hips,
the mere joints of them.

I want to be a mermaid
from the waist down,
though

they say,

from the waist up would be better:

to have all
the pleasure and none

of the pain.
To just think
about sex

and food,
and swimming

and not being eaten.

If women
are mermaids,

then men are not
sailors, but

these: with brains of fish
so

easily lured
to earrings and legs

so (spread) open
to the unknown.