I'm still in the ocean, or bayou, with mermaids. I had no idea Thomas Merton had written this kind of haunting, atmospheric poem. It makes me feel as though I need breathing apparatus to read it. I found it here, at Poetry Foundation.
(From Crossportion’s Pastoral)
The bottom of the sea has come
And builded in my noiseless room
The fishes’ and the mermaids’ home,
Whose it is most, most hell to be
Out of the heavy-hanging sea
And in the thin, thin changeable air
Or unroom sleep some other where;
But play their coral violins
Where waters most lock music in:
The bottom of my room, the sea.
Full of voiceless curtaindeep
There mermaid somnambules come sleep
Where fluted half-lights show the way,
And there, there lost orchestras play
And down the many quarterlights come
To the dim mirth of my aquadrome:
The bottom of my sea, the room.
Here's a link to a Pablo Neruda mermaid poem I posted back in 2011, with a video rendition.