Cherie dreamt of Russian blood
Wearing art and rubber gloves
She kept a diary full of secret thoughts

Clandestine meetings but no one turned up

Tintoretto on the sloping crawl

Siamese cats in every hall
She had drawer full of babushka dolls
And through the mirror on her bedroom wall


She saw the Sun set
But she'd forget


And the artist in the room above
Always used to speak of love

But she'd forget

The hunchback moon would break his bones

To the thrill of God on her telephone
She kept her kitchen full of encaustic wax
So her icons and angels could never relax


Cherie prayed that love would grow
Like the flowers who spoke to the girl below

She built a Buglass on her window sill
Ephemeral art that couldn't keep still