Once upon a time, I walked on land amongst men. You could be me; I could be you. I had no face, no hair. No nails, no name. Always the same yet never the same. Once upon a time, I was egg without embryo. Shell without story. Shaped like echo cupped to ear. Once upon a time, I gave my feet up to the ocean, watched them dissolve into sand & tide. People always ask how long I have grown my hair out for. How do I care for it? How do I tell them that I spent years sleeping within shipwrecks & shoals? That my tresses swirl in shades of seafoam. That I was borne of brine & whalebone. My nails are harpoons lacquered in coral, adorned with treasures buried in carcasses of driftwood. How do I write my body without using images of the ocean? My body drifts in the ebb & flow of time. I never understood why that Danish mermaid gave up swimming to walk on knives. Her voice for a man. Unlike her, my tale does not have an ending.