A million oceans swept past my door last night
As I shivered and called for Monsieur.
Remembering his mouth, his fingers and eyes
And the way I felt in his arms.

As if dancing on the moon with Thumbelina would make him see her
For the fairy that we knew she was,
With green snakes circled at her slim-ankled feet,
Their forked tongues wrapping like pale pink ivy
Around her diamond like toes.

In another place, smoke escapes from a room
Where nymphomaniac nuns say shush! and suck at a spliff,
As giggling they point to wart-encrusted toads, who burping and belching
Remind them of paralytic priests.

And these oceans that flow, continue to go
Forward and wide, galloping as they glide,
And then suddenly slow, it stops at a place I know:
The lilac bedspreads and the china dolls,
The bread in the oven and the dogs in the sun.

And I stumble as I walk, mumble as I talk,
Unsure and perhaps a little scared, of how my self has fared
Since I lost my Monsieur,
Remembering his mouth, his fingers and eyes
And the way I felt in his arms.