'Who are you looking at?' by Grace Palmer

The mermaid, merman, merperson, is groomed and gilded, plays on the steel ropes, eyes set to the sea.

They are not waiting to be rescued, nor discovered, and not hungry to entrap. When one weary shopper sits beneath, stroking a phone, the golden one remains impassive, but anoints with a smile.   

But at night she / he / they slip off the climbing frame, flips upside down to explore their fishiness, slaps the pavement, throws chips to the gulls, cradles the drunks and whistles to the crowds who mistake them for sunset and sea-mist.