If my lover were a comet
           Hung in the air,
 I would braid my leaping body
           In her hair.

However, she lives in the frigid depths
        	Of the Baikal Sea.    	(bai·kaal)
Her presence forever,
        	To haunt its shores
 
Bound to these waters,
        	By her own demise.
A disconsolate maiden,
        	Slipping into the waves.
 
Struggling to stay above,
        	The icy iron grip,
That sucked her nimble body
        	Deeper into this curse.
 
Unethical, this affliction,
        	Blasphemy, this wrong.
Propelling forever this young beauty,
        	To perform horrors.
 
Seducing the village’s,
        	Adolescent, virginal men.
Submerging their bodies,
        	Into the deepness.
 
Her laughter bubbles to the surface
        	As they struggle
Then releasing their corpses,
        	To feed the omul.
 
Yea, if they buried her ten leagues
           Beneath the loam,
 My fingers they would learn to dig
           And I’d plunge home!
 
In the spring she aids the crops.
        	Bringing moisture and life.
The peasants, claim her as their own.
        	Unaware that I declare her mine.
 
By chance I saw the beauty,
        	That my paramour bore.
Stricken, I sought to seduce,
        	Ravish and beguile her.
 
We drank of the spirit,
        	The green fairy.
Laying on the shore,
        	Atop clean unsullied cotton.
 
Sharing sweet caresses
        	And loving embraces.
Our mouths suckling,
        	Each other’s skin.
 
Our passionate communion,
        	Unfocused and hurried.
Her moans and pants,
        	Scalding my ears.
 
I cry out in ecstasy,
        	As she convulses,
Clinging tightly to me,
        	Begging for more.
 
Oh, if she were a star,
               In the midnight sky,
Moondust would be my composition
               To sparkle in her light.
 
I have mastered a being,
        	No one before me dared.
All who drew near,
        	Discovered only death and destruction.
 
My selfish intentions though,
        	Of a souvenir,
A memento of conquest,
        	Have turned to love.
 
Sure to be my demise,
        	My plans of deception,
Have turned to ardor.
        	A spark has ignited within.
 
My daily exertions
        	Become tedious.
My mind occupied with her,
        	The real world falters.
 
Nothing is of a consequence,
        	Unless it contains,
Her presence and being!
        	Oh, my water Queen!
 
Our escapades and romps,
        	Move closer to the water.
Our lovemaking becomes aquatic,
        	Splashing in the cool waves.
 
Should my beautiful inamorata
                Suddenly walked the dry land,
My servitude to her essence,
                Would be my single purpose.
 
An unthinkable, unimaginable,
        	Occurrence has befallen us.
Our intimacy will result in a bastard child.
        	Half supernatural and half mortal.
 
Our minds struggle to adapt to this event.
        	What god has blessed this union?
Is it a blessing or a trick?
        	Played out by a prankster deity.
 
Her abdomen slowly rises and rounds,
        	Stretching her delightful skin.
The globes of her breasts enlarge,
        	Becoming tender and tight.
 
Within our intimate embraces,
        	Another being becomes embroiled.
Kicking at my love’s viscera,
        	Demanding to be free.
 
While I struggle to accept,
        	This coming event.
My mind still worships and adores,
        	My vixen, my demimondaine.
 
Nothing will divert my love,
        	Not this growing fetus,
Or it’s imminent birth.
        	For it shall succumb to death post-haste.
 
Yes, if my beau was a fragrant Lily,
               Blooming brighter than all others.
I would lie my body at her roots,
               To give her substance.
 
The time draws near,
        	Short days till the arrival.
My being has formulated the end,
        	Of this my rival and adversary.
 
As I approach the lake,
        	Her siren like voice calls to me
She appears in the waves.
        	Farther in the sea than ever
 
Diving into the turbulence of the waves,
        	I struggle to swim to her.
Her smile and voice encourage me,
        	Until at last I reach for her.
 
No sooner have we embraced,
        	Then she submerges headed for the bottom.
I struggle and fight for no avail.
        	Another victim she has claimed.
 
My body becomes fodder,
        	Feeding the creatures of the deep.
The activity brings about the convulsions
        	That culminates in birth.
 
She breaks the water’s surface,
        	Cradling a female babe in her arms.
It sounds a soft mewing.
        	She holds the monster to her breast.
 
My executioner, my dearest love
                Even in death my soul,
Proclaims a desire to worship you,
                Positioning you above all else.
 
Roy Richard
March 2024

Acknowledgments to Djuna Barnes, “This Much and More”

Rusalka is a Slavic entity, usually evil, that often is found in water.